


L’Abbaye Notre-Dame-des-Miracles

by Maggies_Scribblings



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Banter, Blushing, Costume Parties & Masquerades, DJWifi, Dancing, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Happy Ending, Intrigue, Lies, MariChat (if you squint), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Northanger Abbey hommage, Puns & Word Play, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Waltzing, adrienette - Freeform, mild head injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-12 16:23:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggies_Scribblings/pseuds/Maggies_Scribblings
Summary: Success for a young woman in 1820 means learning arts, grace and elegance, in the hopes of securing a good marriage proposal. Marinette Dupain’s dreams, on the contrary, are full of adventure, intrigue, gothic realms and handsome heroes.One night, Marinette catches the eye of the eligible bachelor Adrien Agreste. She is instantly smitten by his character and charm. Could he be her hero? However, the more she learns about the Agreste family, the more it seems that even the walls have secrets.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Lila Rossi/Félix Graham de Vanily, Lê Chiến Kim/Lila Rossi
Comments: 96
Kudos: 127





	1. An unlikely heroine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoseGardenTwilight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGardenTwilight/gifts).

> _**"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery".** _   
_Charles Caleb Colton_
> 
> When two of my favourites collide, you get a Miraculous Jane Austen AU.  
The action takes place in Paris, Vichy and Rouen, and later than the original: around 1820, after the end of the Napoleonic wars.  
In Northanger Abbey, Jane Austen created a loving pastiche and hommage to the Gothic novels of the late 1700s to early 1800s. This is my small way of doing the same with her most underrated novel.  
This was not only heavily inspired by Northanger Abbey, some sections and dialogues are integrated into the narrative. Also, look for tidbits of other Jane Austen novels as Easter Eggs...  
Weekly updates on Tuesdays from now on.
> 
> **I would like to dedicate this work to the memory of [RoseGardenTwilight.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGardenTwilight/pseuds/RoseGardenTwilight)**  
I was already a fan of her writing when I ‘met’ her. I only knew her virtually and for a couple of months before her untimely passing, but in this short time I was able to see how she was not only beautiful and talented, but kind, thoughtful and helpful beyond I could ever expect. She really went out of her way to help me with this story, including an occasion where she spent her whole drive brainstorming for a summary, for someone she barely knew, on the other side of the ocean, just to help and not for credit!  
Wherever you are, Carolyn, your work as a writer and your help for other writers are wonderful legacies to leave on this Earth. You have made many people smile and feel happy through your writing, and you will be sorely missed.

No one who had ever seen Marinette Dupain would have supposed her born to be a heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her parents, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her.

Her father was one of the most prominent bakers in Paris, lucky enough that his ancient family business was located close to the Quartier de la Place-Vendôme. The Napoleonic Wars had ended a few years ago, and in these peaceful times that location made the Dupain Boulangerie et Pâtisserie very popular with the bourgeoisie and the nobility, as well as with working people. He had a considerable independence, built by his hard work and friendly demeanour to all his customers, rich and poor alike. There was not an unscrupulous dealing or fraudulent business in sight, and he was not in the habit of locking up his daughter.

Her mother was the daughter of a Chinese scholar who had been introduced to Paris by Jesuit missionaries. Sabine was a woman of excellent sense, with a good temper, and healthy constitution. She was not prone to fainting or coughing fits, and survived childbirth, against all expectations.

It was a bit unusual at that time for a respectable tradesman to marry a Chinese woman, even one from such honourable descent. Nevertheless, the families were neither so well-known as to cause a major scandal, nor so poor as for it to be considered a shameful union. The fact they only had one daughter did not provoke wretched dejection or bitter apprehension for the future of their business, thus rendering an arranged marriage to a villainous older gentleman unnecessary.

Theirs was a fine if small family, with heads and arms and legs enough for the number; they were in general very normal, and Marinette, for many years of her life, was very plain. She had a thin figure, a light skin with freckles, dark lank hair, and strong features. Her eyes were a pretty blue colour, but her face took a few years to properly grow into them.

She was just a normal girl with a normal life, very unpropitious for heroism. Even worse, she preferred playing _boules_ to dolls, and did not nourish such heroic pastimes as nursing a hamster, feeding a pigeon, or watering a rose-bush. The only feminine diversion she indulged in was sewing; her mother’s taste and knowledge of fine silks and fabrics influenced her immensely; and soon enough she was tentatively making her own dresses and bonnets.

The family’s circle of friends was a relatively small one; mainly consisting of foreign scholars and diplomats. One of Marinette’s oldest and dearest friends was her relative Lê Chiến Kim, whose mother was Sabine’s second cousin and father was a cultural attaché from the Kingdom of Vietnam.

Marinette and Kim were inseparable as toddlers, and even in their older teen years were very close. She viewed Kim almost as a brother, and missed him dearly when he went to university in Dijon.

Her best friend, Alya Césaire, was also from an immigrant family. Her parents had migrated from Martinique when very young to seek positions in France. Her mother had started very young in the kitchens of Fort-Royal, and later, in Paris, worked under Antoine Beauvilliers. Her industriousness led her to a sous-chef position at a time when women rarely achieved such status, and in just a few years she established her own restaurant with much success. Her father worked as an exotic animal wrangler and groundskeeper at the Ménagerie du Jardin des Plantes. They had an older daughter, Nora, and two younger twins, Ella and Etta, and the eldest girls were often tasked with the caretaking of the younger ones.

The girls attended a small private school, owned by a Madame Bustier, where they learned everything a young woman needed to know at that time: French and Italian (but not English, as that nation was still the enemy after all), sewing, drawing, cooking and childcare. Just enough history and literature to keep the girls appropriately sedate and able to engage in polite conversation, unhindered by inconvenient themes like politics and religion. In between assignments, the girls in her class revelled in reading and discussing as many gothic novels as they could discreetly pilfer from their families’ libraries. The convoluted and scandalous plot-lines, the tales of damsels in distress travelling to foreign lands, dashing heroes and mysterious villains provided enough excitement to balance out the peacefulness of their home lives.

Such was Marinette Dupain. Upon her seventeenth birthday, appearances were mending; she began to tie her hair in pigtails and yearn for balls; her complexion improved, her features were softened by plumpness and colour, her pretty eyes gained more animation, and her figure more consequence.

Astonishingly, to this date she hadn’t met with one amiable youth who could have inspired real passion, or even any admiration but what was very moderate and transient. The young son of the local printer, a M. Kurtzberg, had stood up with her at a few dances, but never did her heart sing with infatuation or her stomach flutter with butterflies. Not a duel fought, not a sprained ankle delicately bandaged using a gentleman’s neckerchief. Only a handful of uneventful (if exciting) balls. There was not one family among their acquaintance who had reared and supported a boy accidentally found at their door — not one young man whose origin was unknown. Her father had no destitute apprentice, and the Maire no dashing male heir.

But when a young lady is to be a heroine, a trifle like life circumstance cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw adventure in her way.

Monsieur Xavier Ramier, who owned the chief of the property about their Quartier, was ordered to Vichy’s thermal baths for the benefit of a nervous constitution. His lady Josiane, a good-humoured woman, was very fond of Mlles. Dupain and Césaire, and probably aware that if adventures will not befall a young lady in her own city, she must seek them elsewhere. That is how our young heroine found herself invited to spend a season at the Thermes de Vichy. Naturally, bosom friends could not bear to be separated for even a day, let alone six weeks, so Alya was extended the invitation, lest one of the girls should die of heartbreak. M. and Mme. Dupain were all compliance, happy to have their daughter enjoy time away from their busy livelihood, and Marinette all happiness.

And thus their adventure began, with suitable quietness and uneventful safety. Neither robbers nor storms disturbed them, nor one lucky accident to introduce them to the hero. The girls’ excitement could barely be contained: they chat animatedly throughout the trip, planning their outfits for each event they might attend during their stay.

Mme. Josiane Ramier was a lover of all fashion, and an amiable critic of Marinette’s endeavours in sewing. Upon their arrival in Vichy, the lady and the two girls went shopping for new dresses, and proceeded to alter them completely as soon as they got home. After the first few days settling in, their chaperone finally found them fit to frequent the famous social gatherings of Vichy.


	2. Enter the hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An eventful evening for our heroine and her friend. A dashing hero makes his entrance!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the first chapter was very short, I decided to post the second chapter early. This will probably not happen often, as the work is still in progress.  
I forgot to mention in the first chapter: Marinette's last name is Dupain only, as hyphenates were not common at that time.

Marinette’s heart was all aflutter with anticipation of attending a _soirée_ for the first time. Although born and bred in Paris, her experience in public outings was limited to very small circles. She wanted to look her best, and chose her favourite gown. The three women took their time to primp themselves to perfection, and soon joined M. Ramier, who was waiting in the foyer.

“My, my”, he said, “isn’t this a vision! You all look wonderful! Now make haste, the carriage awaits.”

The rooms were crowded and the four could barely make their way in. Marinette blushed profusely as they were announced by the master of ceremonies. M. Ramier soon excused himself to the game room, leaving the ladies to fend for themselves. They squeezed through the crowd until they could find an appropriate place to sit and admire the other attendees. Mme. Ramier found solace in the fact they were able to navigate the throngs with their dresses intact.

“It would have been a pity to have anything torn. Even if you are so accomplished in sewing, my dear Marinette. I dare say we are wearing the most elegant gowns in the room.”

“How uncomfortable it is, not to have a single friend here!” Marinette sighed. “I don’t think we will have any chance to dance at all tonight!”

“I am sure we will make some friends soon enough, dear!”, reassured Alya, her outgoing temperament shining through.

“I dare say Alya is right, my dear. We met a few fine families last year, some of them are bound to have returned.”

“Is it not better go home as it is?” Marinette fretted once more.

“Upon my word, certainly not. You haven’t danced yet, dears. I should be so glad to see you dance with your pretty gowns— look at that strange-looking woman! What an odd frock she has got on! How old-fashioned it is! Look at the back!”

Marinette and Alya exchanged a look, then excused themselves to look for the _toilettes_.

Unbeknownst to them, there was more than one pair of eyes following them.

* * *

The girls came back to Mme. Ramier, only to find her seat empty. Braving the crowds yet again, they found her in the ballroom, appreciating the dance.

“There you are darlings!… I am so enjoying the dancing! All the young people, so bright and elegant. I dare say though, you two are the prettiest girls in the room! I wish I could get both of you partners to see you dance!”

“Do not fret Madame, I am sure we will be dancing soon enough,” Alya answered lightheartedly, smirking at her friend. She had noticed the interested looks of a pair of young men from across the room and plotted how to meet them.

“Isn’t that gentleman the master of ceremonies? I am sure he will be able to introduce us to some adequate partners. Let’s go speak to him!”

Alya had always been the most forward of the two when it came to speaking to boys. While Marinette was not exactly shy, she always got a little tongue-tied when making new acquaintances of the male persuasion. Her friend took her by the hand and made her way to the master of ceremonies.

“Good evening Monsieur. Would you be so kind as to help two ladies find partners for their first dance?”

The gentleman looked flabbergasted at the young girl’s forwardness, but smiled at them and nodded. “I am sure there will be no shortage of young gentleman willing to stand up with you, Mesdemoiselles!”

The two young gentlemen Alya had noticed approached the group.

“Ah… messieurs Agreste and Lahiffe… so glad to see you here tonight.”

“Good evening M. D’Argencourt! Good to see you too. Did I hear something about young damsels in distress?” said the taller of the two, a handsome blond man who looked about the same age as them.

Alya was quick to lament: “Indeed Monsieur; our chaperone wishes to see us dance. Alas, we haven’t made any acquaintances, and must sit and watch instead.”

Marinette discreetly elbowed her friend, and whispered to her from behind her fan: “Alya, this is very inappropriate!”

“Indeed Mademoiselle”, the blond man cheekily whispered back; “allow me to rectify the situation… M. D’Argencourt! May I prevail upon you to formally introduce us to the ladies?”

Four heads turned to the master of ceremonies, who looked dumbfounded back at each one of the young people. Clearing his throat, he proceeded with the formalities.

“Mesdemoiselles Marinette Dupain and Alya Césaire, from Paris, please allow me to introduce you to Messieurs Adrien Agreste, from Rouen; and Nino Lahiffe, from Tangier, Morocco.”

The latter boy was tall, if a little shorter than his friend, and very handsome. His skin had a pretty tan and his eyes were a bright amber. He wore an elegant pair of spectacles and a red fez. “Very much obliged, M. D’Argencourt”.

Both boys bowed dramatically in greeting. Alya was visibly as amused by the display as the boys, whereas Marinette was still hiding a blush behind her fan.

“Now ladies, will you find it appropriate for us to beg the pleasure of the next dance? The musicians are passable, we might even be able to enjoy ourselves”, Nino asked, addressing them both.

Alya playfully answered for both of them, curtseying “I am sure the pleasure should be ours”.

At the audacity of her friend, Marinette gasped and coughed. Both young men looked worried, and M. Agreste promptly went to fetch a glass of water from a nearby tray.

When he returned to the group, he found Marinette alone, still briskly fanning herself.

“Did my friend leave you here all alone, Mlle. Dupain? Are you quite all right?”

“Quite, Monsieur Agreste. Your friend whisked Alya away to the next dance, he said you would return shortly.”

“Please, call me Adrien. I do apologize for my friend. He should not have left you.”

Marinette looked directly at her new acquaintance. His bright green eyes were narrowed in concern as he handed her the glass.

“Thank you, A-adrien. It is quite alright. My friend was so eager to dance! They have only been gone for a minute.”

“Well then, should we follow their example?” Adrien offered his arm to accompany her to the dancing floor.

Marinette slid her hand in the crook of his elbow and nodded: “I would be honoured.”

Adrien led her to take their place in the quadrille. During the dance there was not much leisure to talk, so they just exchanged polite half-smiles, often followed by Marinette averting her eyes.

As they settled after a few tunes, they were finally able to get acquainted.

“Mademoiselle Dupain, I have been remiss in my duties as an escort for the evening!” Adrien started the conversation, cheerily.

“Whatever do you mean, M. Agreste?” Marinette allowed herself to quip back; his serious countenance betrayed by a sly grin which made her feel more at ease.

“Well, I haven’t enquired whether you were ever here before, what will be the length of your stay, whether you have been to the _Parc des Sources_, the theatre, and the concert; and how you like the place altogether.” He shut his eyes and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead in feigned preoccupation. “I have been very negligent — but are you now at leisure to satisfy me in these particulars? If you are I will begin directly.”

Marinette answered, puzzled by his antics: “There is no need to go to such trouble on my behalf, I assure you!”

“No trouble at all. Shall I start then?” Adopting a serious countenance, he cleared his throat and began, with a simpering air, “Is this your first time in Vichy, Mlle. Dupain?”

“Indeed it is, M. Agreste,” she replied, trying not to laugh.

“Really!” with affected astonishment.

“Why should you be surprised, Monsieur? Have you been here before?”

“It is my first time as well,” said he, in his natural tone. “But some emotion _must_ transpire in the conversation. Now let us go on. How long will you be staying?”

“Six weeks, sir.”

“Is that so! Have you yet honoured the _Parc des Sources_?”

“Yes, Monsieur, I was there this morning.”

“Have you been to the theatre?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“To the concert?”

“We will be attending the concert tomorrow.”

“And are you altogether pleased with Vichy?”

“Yes. I like it very much.”

“Now I must give one smirk, and then we may be rational again.”

Marinette looked away, hiding a giggle.

“I see what you think of me,” said he gravely “I am sure I will be poorly portrayed when you write in your diary tonight!”

“My diary?”

“Yes, I can see it now: ‘Went to the dance. Wore my red muslin dress with black spots and plain pink shoes — very flattering look — but was strangely harassed by an odd, half-witted man, who made me dance with him and distressed me by his nonsense.’”

“I shall write no such thing!” she exclaimed, undecided between hilarity and vexation.

“Should I tell you what you ought to say?” he leaned towards her, his smile more earnest.

“Please do Monsieur!”

“I danced with a very handsome young man, introduced by M. D’Argencourt; had a great deal of conversation with him — seems a most extraordinary genius — hope I may know more of him. That, mademoiselle, is what I wish you would say.”

Still unsure how to react, Marinette stared at him in a daze. Clearing her throat once more, she contrived to answer: “What if I don’t keep a diary?”

“Not keep a diary! What if we are not actually in this room? That is just as likely! How are you to remember the substance of your stay in Vichy, unless noted down every night? How will you keep sake of the various dresses you wear, places you go, hearts you break? Milady, I know enough of young women’s habits to be certain that you _do_ keep a diary!”

Marinette was still scrambling for a retort when Mme. Ramier providentially interrupted them: “My dear Marinette, I am in such distress; a raucous young man made me bump into a doorknob and I am afraid I have torn my sleeve. I would be very sad if I have, as it is my favourite gown, though it cost only nine francs per metre!”

“That is exactly what I would have guessed, Madame,” said M. Agreste, examining the fabric.

“Do you understand muslins, Monsieur?”

“Very well; I always buy my own cravats and neckerchiefs, and my own mother has often trusted me in the choice of muslins. Of course, taste for fashion and fabrics runs in the family, given my father’s occupation, therefore I am familiar with all the latest trends.”

After a quick introduction by Marinette, Mme. Ramier attested her surprise at his knowledge: “Men usually don’t notice such things — much less young gentlemen as yourself. You must be a great help to your mother!”

His hitherto bright emerald eyes darkened somewhat. “Sadly my mother is no longer amongst us; but she was very happy that I was able to help in these matters.”

Marinette wished she could say something to change the subject, as she could tell it was a sorrowful one. Luckily, Mme. Ramier’s impertinence came to her rescue.

“And pray tell me, Monsieur — what do you think of Mlle. Dupain’s gown?”

“It is very pretty, Madame, and it suits the lady perfectly” said he, returning to his faux seriousness. “I am afraid it will not wash well, though: it does look like the colours will stain.”

“How can you be so—” Marinette laughed, and almost said _odd_.

“I agree with you sir, and so I told Mlle. Dupain when she bought it,” Mme. Ramier interrupted providentially.

M. Agreste politely maintained the conversation, both ladies hanging on his every word for very different reasons. Marinette had never met anyone quite like him. His banter was humourous without resorting to mockery or condescendence ; his manners polite yet approachable; and his smile brightened whenever she was speaking to him.

When the conversation reached a lull, Marinette looked after Alya and Nino. They had been dancing and chatting animatedly all this time. Adrien followed her gaze and asked: “Would you like to dance again, Mlle. Dupain?”

“Marinette, please. I would be glad to dance once more.”

“Then allow me!” he said as he stood up and took her hand with a bow.

Once again they made their way through the crowded room. Suddenly, Marinette felt her dress catch and felt pulled back. Trying to release the fabric, she pulled herself forward. At the same time whatever was retaining the dress released it, and the momentum made her stumble forward and lose her balance. She braced herself to hit the ground, mortified in advance, when Adrien’s arms took hold of her own.

“There there, I caught you!” he said as she was still balancing herself. “Are you alright?” he asked with another worried look. “That rascal stepped on your dress and didn’t even apologize!”

“I am fine, thank you. I am just… madly clumsy. I trip over my own feet all the time.” He was still holding her arms and they were pressed close by the multitude of people coming and going. As she looked up at him, still blushing, she forgot about everyone else in the room. “Obliged much… I _mean_ much obliged… You saved me from an embarrassing fall.”

“By all means. It was my pleasure… Marinette.”

* * *

When they got home the girls exchanged giggles and stories about their partners and their dancing and conversations as they prepared for bed.

“He is so wonderful, Marinette! He is so knowledgeable on music! He has been all over the world with his father, and speaks several languages! He has even been to Martinique, can you believe that? He said he would like to taste Maman’s cooking!”

“That is very forward of him,” teased Marinette, brushing her hair. “That’s almost as good as a proposal!”

“Oh hush up, Marinette, I saw you getting along swimmingly with his rich friend!”

“He’s rich? I did not take notice of any of that!” Her eyes took on a dreamy shimmer.

“Nino says his father is very wealthy. He has a few textile factories in Rouen.”

“_A few?!_”

“Yes, apparently his father, General Gabriel Agreste, owns half of Normandy!”

“I would _not_ have guessed it! Adrien is so… unpretentious! He did mention something about his father’s business, but I would never have guessed his family was so… grandiose! “

“His father is said to be a very stern man. Very haughty and elitist. Nino does not like him at all.”

“He does not!? I wonder how they are allowed to be so close in that case.”

“Well, that was my question too. They became best friends while studying together at a boarding school in Switzerland. Nino calls Adrien ‘brother’, it is so adorable! General Agreste frowned upon their friendship when they were younger, but now Agreste Industries is negotiating the supply of uniforms to the Kingdom of Morocco, and is trying to get in the good graces of the Sultan. Nino’s father is a close friend and relative to the royal family, so… “

“… so, he tolerates the friendship for the sake of his business. I do not know how to feel about that! Well, enough gossiping about the Agreste riches. How was Nino’s dancing?”

“Oh, Marinette, he was so wonderful! He is everything a young man ought to be. Polite, gracious and so approachable! I never saw such happy manners and good humour — so much ease and perfect good breeding!”

“He is also handsome, which a young man ought likewise to be, wealthy and from a good family. His character is thereby complete.”

“Marinette! I danced with him a few times, that does not mean he is going to propose!”

“Well, he certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person.”

“Do not tease me! I may be your best friend, but I will retaliate!” Alya started to tickle Marinette, and soon both were in a full-scale tickle battle, interrupted only by the shushing of their chambermaid.

Taking a deep breath, they finished their ablutions and got in their beds. Before blowing out the candle, Alya grinned back to his friend: “You haven’t told me how _you_ liked the young M. Agreste… was _he_ agreeable as well?”

“Very much so; although at times I could not tell whether he was serious or in jest. He is undeniably handsome, and an excellent dancer; Mme. Ramier was very impressed with him.”

“And you were _not_?” quipped Alya. “You did not seem displeased with him when you were dancing.”

Marinette simply blushed, averting the questioning. “Would you look at the time! Put the candle out, we have a busy day tomorrow!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues. 
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)


	3. Old friends and new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventures continue for our heroines. They make new friends and reconnect with an old one. A serious conversation.

Mme. Ramier could not stop talking about the dance during breakfast the next morning.

“Did you see the young people dancing, my dear?” she asked her husband, who quietly sipped his coffee. “It was a most delightful evening. The girls were very lauded for their dresses, and I did overhear compliments to my own gown!”

“Please spare me the details about the finery, Josiane; I saw all three of you as we were going to the dance!” M. Ramier began crumbling the rest of his bread into his napkin.

“Speaking of finery, I did very much like meeting that young M. Agreste. So polite and agreeable, and so knowledgeable on muslin and fashions! You made such a nice couple dancing together, my dear Marinette, I hope we have the chance to see him soon! And Alya, your partner was so dashing as well! Truly handsome in an exotic way! You should have seen how well he danced!”

Perplexed by his wife’s gaffe, M. Ramier stood up and interrupted, “if he had had any compassion for me, he would have sprained his ankle in the first dance. I am going for my morning walk.” He put the crumb-filled napkin in his pocket and departed the room, annoyed at his wife’s shallow concerns.

“I say, my darlings, why was he so displeased? We had such a grand time!” Mme. Ramier rambled on and on, eliciting only the occasional acknowledgement from the girls.

* * *

After their first few days in Vichy, the trio had settled on a routine, and the morning after the ball was no exception. They got ready and left for the _Sources_ for the morning’s thermal cures — as they did not suffer from any considerable ailments, their treatments consisted in drinking some cups of the famous waters and taking strolls around the park. Towards the end of the morning they made their way to the boulevards for some window shopping and light lunch.

At the restaurant of the Hôtel Georgeon, Mme. Ramier was delighted to meet an old friend from school.

“My dear Benigna! Imagine seeing you here!… you look as elegant as ever! How long has it been?” she exclaimed as they embraced.

“Too long for my liking, _mia cara_ Josiane! _Come stai_?” the elegant lady greeted back.

The ladies chatted for a little bit, before a fashionably dressed young girl joined them.

“Why, could this be little Lila? How she has grown! And how very _chic_ you look, my dear!”, Mme. Ramier proclaimed, analysing every stitch of her attire.

The girl was tall and slim, and undeniably pretty. Her tan skin was nicely complemented by olive green eyes and long, chestnut brown hair. She wore a very fancy muslin, dark grey with small white spots, and a red bolero. Alya and Marinette joined the ladies as well, and proper introductions followed.

They all departed for a walk after lunch, Lila taking her place in the middle of Alya and Marinette, arm in arm, and filled the girls in on her situation.

“We are here staying our French relatives. You see, my late father was _very close_ to Napoléon, and some of my compatriots held it against our family. We were forced to flee the Kingdom of Sardinia after the war.”

The other girls gasped with concern, and nodded for her to continue.

“We had to leave my precious Cagliari very suddenly, and with very few possessions; accompanied only by our chambermaids and my father’s _maggiordomo_. We are now dependent on the kindness of our cousins, the Barbots, to maintain a decent living.” Lila lamented, tapping her dry eyes with a silk and lace handkerchief. “My poor _Papà _never expected to leave us in such dire need! Unfortunately his relatives are in the south, in Calabria, and it is _much_ too dangerous to cross the country to find refuge with them.”

Alya tried to cheer up the mood, exclaiming: “Well you are very welcome here in France, and I am sure we will be great friends very soon!”

Marinette was not immune to the misfortunes of the girl, but was more cautious about offering her unconditional friendship: “I am glad you made it safe and sound; it must have been distressing to leave all you know behind!”

“Indeed, my darlings; we left in the middle of the night. Our maids were only able to pack one trunk for my mother and two for me. We had to sell our carriage and horses and take… the _public coach_!” she sobbed.

The three girls continued their leisurely saunter, when they were interrupted by a loud whistle. They turned to see two young men coming their way, one of them very familiar.

“Kim!” exclaimed the three girls at the same time, which elicited surprised looks between them.

“Marinette! Alya!… and Lila…” Kim added tenderly. “My parents mentioned you would be here with the Ramiers, but I did not expect to meet you so soon!”

Marinette embraced her relative, genuinely happy to see him, “It’s been so long, Kim… How’s University?”

“It’s excellent, I have made so many friends already. Speaking of which, let me introduce you to the very best of them: Théo Barbot, this is Marinette Dupain, the girl I told you about. And our friend Alya Césaire.”

“_Enchanté, mesdemoiselles…_”, Théo took Marinette’s hand first and planted a slobbering kiss on her knuckles. “_Chien_ has spoken very highly of you, Mlle. Dupain. I see he did not exaggerate your beauty at all… if anything, he understated it!”

Marinette endured the buttery compliments for Kim’s sake. If they were such good friends, this Barbot boy couldn’t be that bad, could he?

“Wait… Barbot?” Alya looked between Lila and Théo.

“Yes, silly, Théo is one of my French cousins I was just talking about! I have met Kim when Théo came home for Christmas break.” She kept fluttering her eyelashes up at Kim, who in turn did not try to conceal his infatuation.

Lila broke the awkward silence by exclaiming: “Oh this is serendipitous indeed! We shall have so much enjoyment now that we have such a big party!”

* * *

That same evening, the Ramiers took their charges to the concert, as planned.

Marinette had been to some concerts at the Théatre Montansier, where the ‘commoners’ were allowed, but had never experienced such intimate, lavish surroundings. The show that evening consisted of a medley of arias from Mozart’s operas, and the girls enjoyed it immensely.

During the intermission, Alya and Marinette tried to get some beverages. They were promptly greeted by the two young men they had met the previous evening, Mssrs. Agreste and Lahiffe.

“Good evening ladies”, saluted the latter, as jovial as the night before. The boys bowed and politely took their hands, barely touching the knuckles with their lips. Marinette couldn’t help comparing the delicate act with the crasser one she had received from M. Barbot. Still, Adrien’s light touch affected her in a much keener way.

Alya and Nino took a turn around the room, arm in arm, talking about music — which was a passion for both — and laughing frequently. Taking his friend’s example, Adrien offered his arm to Marinette and followed.

They walked in silence for a while; Marinette chanced a look up at his face. He looked as handsome as ever, if a little somber.

“Is something disturbing you, Monsieur… I mean Adrien? Do you not enjoy the concert?”

Adrien shook his head and forced a half-smile. “The concert is wonderful. I do enjoy Mozart. I play the piano too, you see, and his pieces are some of my favourite!”

“I would lo-like to hear you play some day; I do enjoy music; although I can’t say I was familiar with Mozart before.”

A truer, livelier grin crossed his face. “I should be glad to play for you sometime.”

Marinette duly blushed and looked down. Silence set in again, as they made their way to the patio. She couldn’t help thinking something was amiss. Her curiosity and true desire to help took over, and she boldly asked: “I am sorry to insist, but you seem perturbed again. Do you want to talk about it? My friends say I am a good listener…”

“I am sure of that, Marinette,” he resumed with a warm smile. “This is nothing you should be bothered about; I had an unpleasant conversation with my father before we came here. He has… high expectations for me, and wishes me to go into politics soon.”

“Politics! How disagreeable. I do not see you as a politician at all!” Marinette stopped herself before showing too much fervor. “I-I mean, amongst my parents’ acquaintances are some deputies and embassy attachés, and they often speak of politics. It seems to be such a hypocritical, manipulative occupation…”

“Oh, I agree!” said Adrien, delighted in the way Marinette was unafraid to voice her opinion — even in a topic genteel ladies usually avoided. Encouraged, he continued, directing them both to a garden bench: “My… discussion with Father was because I wish to be a teacher. You see, in Rouen, where we live, there is a scarcity of schools, particularly ones that accept lower-class children. My father owns some factories, and I proposed to him that we start a school for the workers’ children. We have some warehouses which could be converted at a very low cost. The school would be open to all who wish to attend, and funded by those who are able to pay, together with some financing from our family business. I tried to explain that if the workers feel their children are safe and getting an education at school, they will be happier and more productive. But Father would not listen. He wants me to go into politics so that I can help send government contracts his way. I… it just feels wrong!”

Marinette admired the enthusiasm he showed for the project, equally impressed by his intelligence and kindness. Happy to feel heard, Adrien continued.

“Well, it’s early days anyway. I am not finishing University until next year. I still have time to try and convince him. I do apologize for troubling you with my reveries.”

“It is no trouble, I assure you, I really like your idea. We are privileged to have so many schools to choose from in Paris. Even if there are more alternatives for boys than for girls.”

“Oh, and in my plans we will take girls, too! And not just to teach needlework and cooking, I want a programme which is equal for all!—”

The chimes called for the audience to resume their seats. Marinette regretted ending their conversation, but took his hand and let him take her back in, whispering: “For what it’s worth, Adrien… I think it is a wonderful project, you should pursue it. Maybe your father will come around, eventually…”

“Thank you for lending me your ears, Milady… you were right, it did help to talk about it. Maybe my dream is not so silly as my father thinks.”

As they were making their way back into the hall, she heard a high-pitched voice calling her name. Lila was also returning for the second half of the concert, arm in arm with Kim and Théo.

“My darling Marinette, I thought I would never find you! Where in the world were you hiding?” She looked up to Adrien, who politely nodded. Lila continued in a fake murmur: “you didn’t tell me you had a beau here in Vichy! I thought you just arrived here… aren’t you a sly vixen…”

Mortified, Marinette tried to deny the accusation, but all that came out was a series of sputters.

Théo interrupted, saying: “To hell with this gossip! Let us go back in, _Chien_! The strumpet who was singing was a right looker, I don’t want to miss her.”

Seeing how appalled she was at the use of such language, Adrien took Marinette’s hand again and excused himself sternly, guiding her back to her seat.

“I am sorry for that, A-adrien. I don’t know where she got those ideas—”

“Do not worry about it. I have met some vixens in the past, and you certainly are not one,” he grinned and added in a lower tone: “though I do think you are a _fox-cinating_ girl!” before kissing her hand and turning away, her blush matching the colour of her ribbons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues.
> 
>   
[My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)


	4. Plans made, plans thwarted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heroine of the story gets to know her new friends a little better. Plans are made. Misunderstandings abound. Plans crumble.

A week had passed since the encounter between the Ramiers and the Rossis. While the older ladies caught up on 15 years of missed gossip, the three girls forged a happy (if shallow) friendship. Their tastes overlapped in fashion, dancing and, most of all, Gothic literature. They spent their afternoons together in the Barbot residence private gardens, group reading and picking apart all the plotlines of the most famous novels. The merits (or demerits) of beautiful ingenues, evil noblemen, dashing heroes and secret first wives were all discussed obsessively. After their _goûter_ the young women usually prepared for the evening together, honing their dresses and accessories to perfection.

Kim and Théo were a constant presence in the house, whenever the weather deprived them of the pursuit of more manly ventures like hunting and driving carriages. Marinette and Alya were soon aware that Kim was deeply infatuated with Lila, who welcomed and reciprocated his flirtations with glee.

Théo, on the other hand, directed his full attention to Marinette. He took every opportunity to gloat about his horsemanship, hunts and high birth. Even if she tried to change the conversation to a matter she enjoyed, it was quickly dismissed as girly and superficial. The novels she so adored were despised by the man, much to her frustration. There was not one topic they could agree on. One day, Théo unceremoniously asked her:

“Old Ramier is filthy rich, right?” Marinette could not believe what she heard, her expression showing confusion and disgust. He repeated his question, adding, “Old Ramier, the man you are with.”

“Oh! M. Ramier, you mean. Yes, I believe he is very rich.”

“And they have no children at all?”

“No, none at all.”

“A fabulous thing for their heirs. He is your godfather, isn’t he?”

“My godfather! No.”

“But you spend an awful amount of time with them.”

“Yes, they are very dear to me.”

“Exactly, that is what I meant. He seems like a good kind of old fellow, and has lived very well in his time, I dare say. Is he quite ill? These old codgers don’t come to Vichy for nothing, you know.”

Marinette did not like where the conversation was going, but did not want to seem uncivil in front of the older ladies. Clearing her throat, she commented: “We’ve been enjoying very nice weather here in Vichy!”

An idea seemed to illuminate his countenance. “Are you fond of an open carriage, Mlle. Dupain?”

“Yes, very much. I hardly ever get an opportunity of being in one; but I am particularly fond of it.”

“I am glad of it; I should drive you out in mine whenever you please.”

“Thank you?” Said Marinette, in some distress, uncertain of the propriety of accepting such an offer.

“_Sacré bleu_, I _will_ drive you up the Bourbonnais Mountains one of these days.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I will have to ask Mme. Ramier for her permission.”

Lila heard the conversation, and squealed:

“How delightful that will be! I wish I could go with you! Théo’s carriage certainly has more than enough room, but as they say, _three is a crowd_,” she lamented, glancing at Kim. “I would not like to impose on the _two of you, _my _Netta_!” With this she conspicuously winked at Marinette, who cringed at the nickname and looked to Alya for help.

“As I said, I will need to ask. Do not count on it, M. Barbot, until we speak to Mme. Ramier, right Alya?”

“I am sure she will not have any objections, Marinette! We could all go, if we fit, right?” Marinette scowled and shook her head in a negative, but Alya ignored her. Chagrined, but reluctant to seem rude, Marinette conceded:

“I shall speak to Mme. Ramier; please do not make any definitive plans until I speak to her.”

“We will plan it all this evening, then. I will have _Mamma_ speak to dear Josiane,” Lila decided. “I can’t wait!”

* * *

That evening they went to a dancing _soirée_. Marinette and Alya were glad to see Mssrs. Agreste and Lahiffe shortly after their arrival.

As was becoming their routine, Alya and Nino disappeared together in the crowd, leaving Marinette and Adrien to fend for themselves.

“Well, Milady, if you can’t beat them, join them, is that not how it’s said? Shall we join the dance?”

Happy to see Adrien in a better mood than last time, she was quick to accept.

They took their places in a quadrille, facing each other at a little distance as was the custom. As they waited for the music to begin, Marinette heard an angry whisper directed at her.

“_Bon sang_, _Netta_! What is the meaning of this? I thought you and I were dancing together.” She looked over her shoulder to see M. Barbot standing behind her, closer than she deemed comfortable.

“I wonder why you thought that! You never asked me!” Marinette replied, unable to hide her own vexation.

“That’s a good one, dammit! I asked you as soon as you arrived, and before I even knew it, you were gone! This is a cursed, pathetic trick! I only came tonight to dance with you, in fact I believe you were engaged to me since Monday. Yes, I remember now! We were on our way back from the _sources_! Silly me, I’ve been telling all my friends that I’d be dancing with the prettiest girl in the room, and when they see you with somebody else, they will mock me endlessly.”

“Oh, no — they will never think of me, if you describe me like that.”

“By heavens, if they do not, I will kick them out of the room for blockheads.” Looking at Adrien, he persisted with his quizzing: “So, you’re dancing with that Agreste chap? Hum. I do not know him. A good figure of a man, well put together I guess. I hear his father is—” blissfully, the music started, the couples started to dance and he was forced to move away.

Adrien drew near her and began the paces, protesting:

“That gentleman would have put me out of patience, had he stayed with you half a minute longer. He has no business to withdraw the attention of my partner from me. We have entered into a contract of mutual agreeableness for the space of an evening, and all our agreeableness belongs solely to each other for that time. I consider a _minuet_ akin to marriage. Fidelity and complaisance are the principal duties of both; and those men who do not choose to dance or marry themselves, have no business with the partners or wives of their neighbours.”

“But they are such very different things!”

“… That you think they cannot be compared.”

“To be sure not.” Marinette was flustered, but not displeased with the comparison. “People that marry can never part, but must go and… keep house together. People that dance only stand opposite each other in a long room for half an hour.”

“Well, if you put it like that, certainly, they are very different things.” He was smirking, amused at the way the conversation was going. “But I think I can convince you of the similarities. You will allow, that in both, man has the advantage of choice, woman only the power of refusal; that in both, it is an engagement between man and woman, formed for the advantage of each; and that when once entered into, they belong exclusively to each other till the moment of its dissolution. You will allow all this?”

“Yes, to be sure, as you state it, all this sounds very well; but still they are so very different. I cannot look upon them at all in the same light, nor think the same duties belong to them.” Marinette giggled.

“Then I am quite at a loss. One thing, however, I must observe. This disposition on your side is rather alarming. Since you think the situations are so different, I fear your notion of the duties are not as strict as mine. Tell me, Marinette, if the gentleman who spoke to you just now were to return, or if any other gentleman were to address you, would you leave me to speak to them instead?”

“M. Barbot is a very particular friend of my dear cousin. If he talks to me, I must talk to him back; I barely have any acquaintances here in Vichy, anyway.”

“And is that to be my only security? Alas, alas!”

“I am sure you cannot have a better one — if I do not know anybody, it is impossible for me to talk to them,” she added, bashfully: “and, besides, I do not want to talk to anybody else but you.”

“Now you have given me a security worth having; and I shall proceed with courage. Do you find Vichy as agreeable as when I had the honour of making the inquiry before?”

“Yes, quite — more so, indeed.”

“More so! Take care, or you will forget to be tired of it at the proper time. You ought to be tired at the end of six weeks.”

“I do not think I should be tired, if I were to stay here six months.”

“Vichy, compared with Paris, has little variety, and so everybody finds out every year. You would be told so by people of all descriptions, who come regularly every spring, lengthen their six weeks into ten or twelve, and go away at last because they can afford to stay no longer.”

Marinette laughed once again, and this time Adrien joined her, dropping all pretense at seriousness. They continued their dance and their banter, wrapped in smiles and laughter.

Between the first and second dance, Marinette felt more than saw someone observing her earnestly. He was a very tall, handsome gentleman, of a commanding aspect, past the bloom, but not past the vigour of life; and with his dark blue eyes still directed towards her, she saw him presently address M. Agreste in a familiar whisper. Confused by his notice, and blushing at the thought of something being wrong in her appearance, she turned away her head. But while she did so, the gentleman retreated, and her partner approached her, with a stiffer smile than before.

“I see that you wonder what I have just been asked. That gentleman knows your name, and you have a right to know his. It is General Agreste, my father.”

“_Oh_!” With real interest and strong admiration did her eye now follow the general, as he moved through the crowd, and “How handsome a family they are!” was her secret thought.

During the intermission, Marinette tried to further her study of General Agreste. He seemed awfully serious and proud, his stance perfect but inflexible, and his gaze fixed on her even when their eyes met. Eventually, she saw M. Barbot speaking to him and wondered why should they be talking. Seeking to evade the feeling of being scrutinized, she suggested they would find Nino and Alya.

“Nino was just telling me that there is a run-down convent very near!” Alya enthusiastically said. “Does that not sound mysterious? I would love to go and explore it!”

“Oh yes!” Marinette pondered, “the _Couvent des Célestins_, right? I have read about it — it is supposed to be haunted by the souls of the monks who died there during the Revolution!”

“That’s the one!” said Nino, amused with the girls’ whimsy . “I do not believe in ghosts— my faith does not contemplate them — but it is supposed to be a nice walk to the place, and the woods surrounding it are very pretty!”

Adrien chimed in: “I would like to visit. We saw the ruins of the convent as we rode over, and it is an interesting place for a country walk.”

“We should go tomorrow morning!” Alya begged Marinette, who was cautiously excited.

“I’d love to! But you know we need to ask the Ramiers,” Marinette fretted.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Alya took Marinette’s hand and ran off to find M. Ramier.

* * *

The next morning the girls got ready earlier than usual. They had settled on a 10 o’clock meeting, to walk the few hundred yards to the convent, as long as it didn’t rain. The Ramiers agreed with the plan, seeing as the girls were old enough to go out without chaperones, as long as they did not go far beyond the city limits.

At 9:30 they were ready and eager to depart, looking out the window for their escorts. A slight drizzle set in, but the sun was peeking through the clouds, and they hoped the plan would keep. They were surprised by the approach of an elegant open carriage, driven by M. Barbot and with Lila and Kim as passengers.

M. Barbot jumped off the carriage and bursted into their lodgings, shouting from the stairs: “Make haste! Make haste!” as he threw open the door. “Put on your hats this moment — there is no time to be lost — we are going to the Bourbonnais Mountains. How d’ye do, Mme. Ramier, Alya?”

“To the Bourbonnais Mountains — today? But we never settled upon a date! Mme. Ramier hasn’t given her permission. Have you, Mme. Ramier?”

“Do as you please, my dear,” she answered, more focused on the prints in a fashion magazine.

“In any case, we cannot go with you today, because we are engaged; we expect some friends every moment.”

Alya seconded the rebuttal: “It is true, we are going to walk to the convent today.”

Lila and Kim walked in and joined the discussion.

“My sweetest _Netta_, is not this delightful? We shall have a most heavenly drive. You are to thank your cousin and me for the scheme; it darted into our heads at breakfast-time, I verily believe at the same instant!”

The girls entered a discussion on the merits of a plan and the heaviness of the rain. Marinette was explaining her objections to her friends.

“Out of the question, we can _not_ join you today. Mssrs. Lahiffe and Agreste will be here very shortly.”

“Maybe we can go another day?!” Alya added, reluctant to miss out on a chance to spend time with Nino.

Théo interrupted the argument, by saying: “Wait, Agreste? That chap you were dancing with yesterday?”

“That’s the one,” said Alya, “do you know him?”

“I just saw them — him and that tan fellow. Does he not drive a phaeton with bright chestnuts?”

“I have no idea what he drives.” Marinette replied, increasingly annoyed.

“Yes, I know he does; very good horses, too! I saw him going in the opposite direction.”

“Did you indeed?” she looked at Lila, who nodded in confirmation.

“Did upon my soul; knew him again directly.”

“It is very odd!” Alya added, “but I suppose they thought it would be too rainy for a walk.”

Marinette looked out the window. Although the rain had stopped, the streets were muddy and uninviting. She glanced at Alya, who seemed to be considering the same. Sensing their vacillation, Lila pleaded:

“Oh do reconsider, my darlings! I am in such ecstasies at the thoughts of a little country air and quiet! So much better than the city. We shall drive to Châtel-Montagne in the mountains and eat lunch there; and, if there is time for it, go on to Château de Busset.”

“Château de Busset?” The other two girls asked in unison. They had heard of this ancient castle. Though shockingly lacking in ghosts, it was guaranteed to be a nice visit.

“I should like to see the castle; but may we go all over it? May we go up every staircase, and into every suite of rooms?” Alya’s eyes were sparkling with trepidation.

“Yes, yes, every hole and corner,” Lila impatiently conceded.

“But then, if our friends should only be gone out for an hour till it is dryer, and call by and by?” Marinette was still concerned.

“That is impossible!” refuted Théo. “I am sure I heard the Agreste chap call out to another fellow that he was going all the way to Lapalisse!”

“Then we will go. Shall we go, Mme. Ramier?”

“Just as you please, my dear.”

“Mme. Ramier, you must persuade them to go,” was the general cry.

“Well, my dear,” said she, “suppose you go.”

And in two minutes they were off. As M. Barbot helped her up to the driver’s seat next to him, Marinette’s feelings were in a very unsettled state. She could not help but wonder why Nino and Adrien had so readily given up their engagement, without sending any message of excuse. To be slighted by Adrien felt more painful than she expected. On the other hand, the delight of exploring a castle like the ones in her novels, as she now pictured Château de Busset to be, might even help dull the pain.

They drove briskly across the city, without exchanging many words. Théo talked to his horses, and she meditated, by turns, on broken promises and broken arches, phaetons and false hangings, Agrestes and regrets.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a gasp and a nudge from Alya: “Marinette, look!”

She looked up and saw Adrien and Nino, walking slowly down the street. She saw them both looking back at them.

“Stop, stop, M. Barbot,” she exclaimed; “our friends were on their way to meet with us. Stop, we will get out this moment and meet them!”

To no avail. Barbot only lashed his horses into a brisker trot; the young men, who had ceased to look after them, were soon out of sight around a corner. Even after that, she entreated him to stop. “Pray, pray stop, M. Barbot. I cannot go on. I will not go on. I must go back.” But M. Barbot only laughed, smacked his whip, encouraged his horse, made odd noises, and drove on; and Marinette, angry and vexed as she was, having no power of getting away, was obliged to give up the point and submit.

She heard Alya fuss behind her as well, and condescending words of comfort offered by Lila. Marinette did not hesitate to continue chastising the driver. “How could you deceive me so, M. Barbot? How could you say that you saw them driving up to Lapalisse? They must think it so strange, so rude of us! To go by them, too, without saying a word! You do not know how vexed I am; I shall have no pleasure at the Bourbonnais Mountains, nor in anything else. I had rather, ten thousand times rather, get out now, and walk back to them. How could you say you saw them driving out in a phaeton?” Barbot defended himself very stoutly, declared he had never seen two men so much alike in his life, and would hardly give up the point of its having been Agreste himself.

Their drive, even when this subject was over, was not likely to be very agreeable. Marinette and Alya’s enjoyment was ruined. Barbot, who was not very kind to begin with, was now in a bad mood. Not that Marinette was bothered, as she did not feel like talking either.

They arrived at Châtel-Montagne and had lunch at the inn. The meal was lacklustre and the conversation even worse. Kim was making an effort to cheer everyone up, and Lila was trying to soften the girls with her silver tongue.

When they started to head back home, Kim said to Théo:

“We had better go straight home, Barbot; it is too late to go to the Château today; your cousin thinks so as well as I. We had much better put it off till another day.”

“It is all one to me,” replied Théo rather angrily, chewing on a toothpick; and instantly turning his horses, they were on their way back to Vichy.


	5. In the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rainy evening gives place to a rainy morning. Mix-ups are explained, but can they be forgiven? A proposal.

The ride back home was miserable. If before there was some semblance of enjoyment, at least from Lila and Kim, now there was only fatigue and vexation. Marinette refused to ride in the front with Théo, under the pretext that she was cold and wanted to sit next to Alya. In truth, she was tired of his bad language and unwarranted familiarity. Marinette noticed Lila’s head resting on Kim’s shoulder, his cloak and arms shielding her from the chill.

The morning’s light showers with sunny interludes gave way to a heavy rain when they were still a few miles away from Vichy.

Barbot dropped Alya and Marinette off at the Ramiers’ without much ceremony. Even Lila and Kim only offered grumpy “Good nights”.

They ran straight to their bedroom, washed up and went to bed in hopes the next day would be better.

Sleep did not come as swiftly as Marinette hoped, her mind in turmoil over the day’s events. She felt bad for missing the engagement with Adrien, yet blameless, having been deceived by Barbot. She was outraged by his behaviour and his lies. When she compared it with Adrien’s manners, Théo came out short in every respect. It was as if he was just a spoiled, greedy brat playing copycat to a real gentleman. She was not pleased with Lila either, as she covered up for Théo’s lies and even helped him deceive her.

Her thoughts turned to Kim. She could not bring herself to assign any blame to him. She could tell he was smitten with Lila, and his feelings seemed welcome and reciprocated. Having known him since childhood, Marinette believed there wasn’t a mean streak in his person. Nevertheless, she feared his _naiveté_ (which could sometimes be perceived as obtuseness) could make him ripe for manipulation.

When she finally fell asleep, she was haunted by nightmares of foul-mouthed villains, dark castles, thunderstorms and dashing blond heroes.

* * *

The dawn brought more rain, but as the morning wore on the sky began to clear up. Alya was not feeling well: the rain and disappointment of the previous day left her so indisposed she did not leave her bed. Marinette got dressed and went out alone, feeling the need to get away and be alone with her thoughts. Planning on making a new bonnet for her friend, she walked in the direction of the shops and into a haberdashery, allowing herself to be immersed in the beauty of silks, laces and threads. She bought a bare straw beret and some orange, white and black silk to decorate it with. The colours would compliment Alya’s beautiful complexion.

The next stop was at the local bakery, to buy some sweets to lift up her friend’s spirits. The familiar smells and sounds made her think of her parents. Happy as she was to visit new places and meet new people, she missed her family dearly. Yesterday’s letdown made her even more melancholy, and a tear escaped her eye.

Keeping her head down as she was leaving, she didn’t notice the door opening and bumped into a now familiar chest. For the second time in a few days, she felt a strong pair of hands steady her balance.

“Apologies, Monsieur, I did not see—” As she lifted her eyes, she saw Adrien looking back at her. His expression was sterner than she had ever seen it, and yet she could still detect some concern in his eyes.

“There, there. I have you!” He said as she tried to pull herself together.

“Oh! M. Agreste, I am so glad to fall for you—_I mean—_to bump into you! I was anxious to speak with you — and M. Lahiffe of course, and make my apologies for missing our appointment yesterday. You must have thought us so rude; but indeed it was not our fault. M. Barbot told me that you and Nino were gone out in a phaeton to Lapalisse?”

Her assurance was not thrown away; it brought a more cordial, more natural smile into his countenance, and he replied in a tone which retained only a little reserve.

“We did not drive yesterday; there must have been some mix-up. We did see you and Mlle. Césaire driving away with your friends. I thought you had… decided upon a more… attractive plan.” He looked down at the floor, his expression taciturn once again.

“_Attractive_? But I had ten thousand times rather have been with you—I mean _we_ would rather have taken our walk as planned—_the four of us_—I begged M. Barbot so earnestly to stop, and—and _if only_ he had stopped, I would have jumped out and run after you.”

Is there a young man in the world who could be insensible to such a declaration? Adrien at least was not. With a sweet smile, he assured her that the misunderstanding was cleared up and no resentment remained.

They parted as friends, and he opened the door for her to leave. Since the rain had returned, he opened his umbrella to cover them both, and asked: “Should I call you a carriage?”

“No need for that! I walk: I prefer walking.”

“But it rains.”

“Oh! Very little, almost nothing.”

After a moment’s pause he gave her his umbrella, insisting: “In that case, I wish you would make use of this, if you are determined to walk.”

Their eyes met as she reached out to take the umbrella. Their fingers touched briefly, sending a jolt to her heart.

“Thank you!” She took the umbrella, immediately plotting never to return it. As luck would have it, as soon as Adrien moved from under it, the mechanism snapped and it closed over her head. Helping her out of this predicament, their eyes met again and they shared a loud, hearty laughter.

“See you around?”

“Uh… around… yes!—Around the sea?—Haha! I _will_ see _you_ around!”

* * *

The main programme for that same evening was a piano recital by Jarred Stone, a famous English performer. As per usual in such a resort, the _crème de la crème_ of Vichy assembled in the concert hall. Alya was feeling better (particularly after Marinette informed her that the previous day’s misunderstanding was cleared and forgiven) and the friends were thoroughly enjoying the performance.

As per usual, they were joined by the Rossi ladies, plus Théo and Kim. Marinette was looking for Adrien, but so far he wasn’t in attendance. Lila was particularly giggly and happy, and Kim looked more enamoured than ever. She took both girls by their arms and announced giddily: “I need to get some air. Please excuse us!”

Marinette and Alya were still reticent to trust Lila in full, considering the part she had taken in the previous day’s deception.

“My dearest girls, I have such happy news!” she started, as soon as they were a decent distance away from the others. “Kim has asked me to marry him!” She took her handkerchief and wiped at the corners of her eyes, in one of her favourite mannerisms. Alya and Marinette looked on, waiting for more details.

“My beloved, sweetest friends,” she continued, “compose yourselves. I am amazingly agitated, as you perceive. Let us sit down and talk in comfort. Oh! My dear _Netta_, to think we will be cousins! Kim is the most charming of men. I only wish I were more worthy of him. But what will his parents say? Oh! Heavens! When I think of them I am so agitated!”

Alya was the first to recover her composure. Despite the tendency for exaggeration and drama, Lila had become one of their friends, and she was genuinely happy for her.

“I am sure they will be elated, dear!” Alya said, with an embrace. “When they see how much you love him, they will receive you with open arms.”

“You are too kind, Alya. Do you think she’s right, Marinette? After all, they are your relatives. Oh! Will they approve of me, despite my lower rank and fortune?” she sighed, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead.

Marinette was confused by this theatrical display. However, she had seen Kim fall deeper in love with Lila over the few days they had been at Vichy, and her wish for his happiness spoke louder. “I am sure they will approve; his father is a gentleman, as was your father; they are not the kind of small-minded people to view difference in fortune or position as an impediment! They will welcome you with open arms!”

Kim and Théo approached, and Marinette was quick to greet her cousin and offer her congratulations, swiftly followed by Alya. The groom-to-be explained that he would set out for Paris the following morning to ask for his parents’ permission, as _Signora_ Rossi had already granted hers. Théo was to accompany him on the ride.

As the happy couple effusively displayed their affection by holding ungloved hands, Théo approached Marinette from behind, whispering in her ear:

“A famous good thing this marrying scheme, upon my soul! A clever fancy of _Chien_ and Lila's. What do you think of it, Mlle. Dupain? I say it is no bad notion.”

“I am sure I think it is a very good one.”

“Do you? That's honest, by heavens! I am glad you are no enemy to matrimony, however. Did you ever hear the old song ‘Going to One Wedding Brings on Another?’ I say, you will come to Lila’s wedding, I hope.”

“Yes; I will be present for both our cousins’ sakes, if possible.”

“And then you know—” twisting himself about and forcing a foolish laugh “—I say, then you know, we may try the truth of this same old song.”

“What? But I never sing.” Marinette was barely paying any attention to what he was saying, as she was still looking about the room for M. Agreste. “Well, I should go back in. The recital is about to begin.”

“Nay, but there is no such confounded hurry. Who knows when we may be together again?”

“I am sure we will all be back together soon enough.”

“That is good-natured of you, I shall not forget that. But you have more good nature and all that, than anybody living, I believe. And it is not only good nature, but you have so much, so much of everything; and then you have such— upon my soul, I do not know anybody like you.”

“Oh! dear, there are a great many people like me, I dare say, only a great deal better. Good evening to you.” Baffled, she went back into the concert hall for the remainder of the recital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues. 
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)


	6. Monks, ghosts and masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new character is introduced, but what are his true intentions? A much-delayed outing takes place. The girls prepare for a very special event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of my favourite Jane Austen dialogue here! Enjoy...

The next morning, Marinette, Alya and Lila met at the _Parc des Sources_. In light of the good news, the errors of the past had been forgiven, and the three were in excellent terms once again. Lila was all smiles and sighs, endlessly gushing about her sweetheart.

They strolled and drank some water, then strolled some more.

Marinette caught the gaze of a tall handsome man, following them across the park. The stranger wore a military uniform and his very light blond hair was combed back into a ponytail. His eyes were a deep green colour and had a fierceness that gave her a chill.

“It is scandalous!” Lila declared, affecting indignation. “That insufferable man keeps staring at me! Let us move away from this end of the park. He will surely not follow us.”

With this Lila made them turn away, but to the others’ surprise, took another turn and directed them straight to where the man had been.

“He is gone!” then composing herself, affecting relief: “Good riddance! Although he was a very good-looking young man.”

Marinette and Alya exchanged a look, appalled by her behaviour, just one day after her engagement.

They did not have much time to wonder. Before long, they saw four gentlemen coming towards them from a side path: one was the handsome officer; the other two they knew — Adrien and Nino; and the fourth, Marinette recognized as being General Agreste.

They all stopped in their tracks; the gentlemen seemed as surprised as the young ladies were. After a second of silence, Adrien remembered his manners and addressed the girls, his demeanour much more serious and formal than usual.

“Mlles. Dupain, Césaire, it is delightful to meet you here.”

The girls curtseyed and Adrien and Nino bowed, and then proceeded with the introductions:

“Father, these are our acquaintances from Paris, whom we have mentioned: Mlles. Alya Césaire and Marinette Dupain. This is my father, General Gabriel Agreste, and my cousin, Captain Félix Graham de Vanily.”

Marinette in turn introduced Lila, who fluttered her eyelashes at the Captain. The General addressed Marinette:

“Mlle. Dupain, I have heard very nice things about you; it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Marinette flushed at the idea of Adrien saying nice things about her, and returned the greeting. The gentlemen joined the ladies in their stroll, engaged in amiable if not animated conversation.

Nino renewed the invitation to visit the Couvent des Célestins, happily accepted by Marinette and Alya, and rejected by Lila and Félix. They separated a little later, with plans to meet the next morning.

Marinette floated home, enchanted by the attention the General paid her. That he was perfectly agreeable and good-natured, and altogether a very charming man, did not admit of a doubt, for he was tall and handsome, and Adrien’s father.

* * *

The next day could not arrive soon enough. They were finally going to the Couvent des Célestins, and this time neither weather nor friends frustrated their plans. The scenery was pleasant, the young men charming and the convent ruins suitably eerie. Not even the lack of ghosts could ruin the outing.

Adrien walked with Marinette, and Nino with Alya, and they all got better acquainted. In parallel to the girls, the two young men were bound by a profound and unconditional friendship, built over several years of school together. Their banter was easy and playful, and their manners irreprehensible.

As they walked along the riverside, Marinette observed a rowboat and sighed, “The scenery is beautiful. It reminds me of Venice.”

“You have been abroad then?” said Adrien, a little surprised.

“Oh! No, I only mean what I have read about in _The Mysteries of Udolpho_. But you never read novels, I dare say?”

“Why not?”

“Because they are not clever enough for you — gentlemen read better books.”

“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid. I have read all Mrs. Radcliffe's works, and most of them with great pleasure. _The Mysteries of Udolpho_, when I had once begun it, I could not lay down again; I remember finishing it in two days — my hair standing on end the whole time.”

“I am very glad to hear it indeed, and now I shall never be ashamed of liking _Udolpho_ myself. But I really thought, young men despised novels.”

“Poppycock — they read nearly as many as women. I myself have read hundreds. Nino enjoys them too, isn’t that so?” Nino answered with a nod and a smile, as Adrien continued. “Do not imagine that you can cope with me in a knowledge of Julias and Louisas!” His tone was so playful and pleased, she felt encouraged to quip back.

“And you can not defeat _me_ in castles, manors and abbeys! We should get our knowledge tested by an impartial juror!”

“Ha! You would lose there too; for I live in an abbey myself!”

“_Lies_!” she laughed in disbelief.

“But I do! Nino, please vouch for me!”

“It is true!” Nino’s amused assurance caused melodramatic gasps from the girls, as he announced reverentially: “L'Abbaye Notre-Dame-des-Miracles, just outside of Rouen.”

Alya joined in: “Ooooh, and tell me: is it as horrid as the one in _The Romance of the Forest_? What foul spirits lurk in the halls of this abbey?”

“Between you and me,” Nino mock-whispered, “I have seen three: a mean lady in black with spectacles and two tall morose military men.”

The tone of the jest made everyone laugh, even if the girls didn’t grasp the joke in full.

“Now, Nino,” Adrien scolded through a badly disguised grin “I know you dislike my father, but do you have to drag Nathalie and Félix in the mud, too?”

“Spoilsports, the lot of them! Remember your 19th birthday? — I tried to organize a small _soirée_ with a dozen of our friends — nothing extravagant: some music, food and dancing. Even the _Maire’s_ daughter was invited.” Adrien was rolling his eyes and shaking his head for Nino to stop, to no avail. “Well, Nathalie — she’s the abbey’s evil housekeeper — heard about the arrangements, and snitched to the General. Naturally, Félix was happy to help him torment us until all plans were dropped. Do not deny it, my brother, they never let you have any _fun_!”

Adrien looked slightly miffed now, and tried to change the course of the conversation: “Well, anyway, no ghosts, ghouls or goblins in the Abbaye Notre-Dame-des-Miracles. You would be quite disappointed.”

“But is it very ancient and gloomy? Does it have long dark corridors and turrets?” Alya continued, genuinely curious.

“Nothing like that. The name is mostly inherited from the original building, as well as a few walls which survived the years.” Adrien continued, now addressing Marinette in earnest. “The abbey was part of my mother’s dowry. The original estate was comprised of the abbey and the mansion, and the adjoining land. It was divided equally between my mother and my aunt Amélie — Félix’s mother. Sadly, his parents have died in a trip to the colonies a few years ago, so he spends a lot of time in our home.”

Marinette felt her heart clench at the sudden change in his mood. It was the second time he had mentioned his mother in her presence, and on both occasions his spirits visibly deflated. She wanted to steer him back to the smiling, happy disposition he had shown earlier.

“So tell me, Adrien. What are your favourite novels? For me it’s _Udolpho_; no doubt about it. I find it to be the nicest book in the world, don’t you agree?” She asked in a sprightly manner, which returned he mischievous expression to his face.

“The nicest — by which I suppose you mean the neatest. That must depend upon the binding.” His smirk was more evident now.

“I am sure,” laughed Marinette, “I did not mean that; but it is a nice book, and why should not I call it so?”

“Very true, and this is a very nice day, and we are taking a very nice walk, and you are two very nice young ladies. It is a very nice word indeed!”

“Whatever you say, brother,” Nino said, loudly tapping his shoulder. “You are more nice than wise.”

The four concluded their walk in very high spirits.

* * *

The next evening there was another source of much excitement.

The _Maire_ of Vichy was hosting a grand masquerade. The theme of the party was _All Creatures Great and Small_, and although all were encouraged to dress up in animal themed costumes, it was mostly the younger guests that chose to do so.

Marinette, Alya and Lila spent the whole day conceiving their costumes. Marinette opted for a ladybug look, starting with her red dress with black dots, which she fondly remembered had received praise from Adrien on their first meeting. She made a matching mask with some leftover fabric, and made a wing-shaped cape with translucent red muslin in which she hand-painted black spots. The look was completed with a head ribbon to which she attached two red antennae made out of whalebone lined with red ribbons, and two tiny red bells capping them.

Alya wore an orange dress, to which they added black lace details on the sleeves and black gloves and shoes, and a large white ruffled neckerchief. Marinette adapted one of Alya’s bolero jackets, adding orange and black coattails to imitate a real fox’s tail. The mask was also the work of Marinette, and they also managed to improvise some fox ears out of _papier mâché_.

Lila chose a magnificent purple silk gown she had salvaged from her golden days in Sardinia. She refused to make any alterations to the dress, but conceded to having a pair of sheer lilac muslin butterfly wings attached to her back. Her mask was violet, and she wore her hair in a high updo.

She sighed as she looked in the mirror: “It is a pity dear Kim is out of town! I am sure I shall not enjoy the ball without him!”

Mme. Ramier was delighted with their looks, and lamented being too old to wear a costume. Refusing to accept that fate for their kind chaperone, the girls happily raided the lady’s _armoire_ to find a lustrous dark grey silk dress with silvery lace, which inspired Marinette to quickly improvise a pigeon-themed mask, made with silver and purple fabric, some feathers and even a golden beak she managed to shape out of a brass button.

M. Ramier was enraptured when he saw his wife in the ensemble: “My darling… I have no words. You look exquisite! The girls’ outfits are nice, but you… my queen!” He bent over and kissed her hand reverently.

Marinette, Alya and Lila were tickled by the unusual demonstrations of affection, happy to see their older friend blush with her husbands’ attentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the mandatory Period AU Masked Ball!  
Please let me know how you like this story! 
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues. 
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)


	7. The masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroines and heroes attend the grand masked ball! There is more intrigue, flirting, waltzing and oh so many animal puns!

The Ramiers and their protegées arrived at the masquerade early. The hall at the _Mairie_ was exquisitely decorated to welcome the guests. Ever since the _Duchesse_ d’Angoulême started her treatments in Vichy, tourism had increased exponentially, sought out by nobles and bourgeois alike. The savvy _Maire_ knew that offering exciting entertainment was essential to keep them coming back.

The younger attendees were extravagantly dressed, and although the dancing had not yet started, music and wine were flowing free, and the older population was suitably distracted in the upper card and drawing rooms.

Marinette, Alya and Lila were intoxicated with the surroundings. Certainly, they had attended large assemblies in Paris, but none so exuberant as this. Their costumes were appreciated, followed by surprised looks at the knowledge they had been made at home.

Even the older ladies in the tea-room above were singing the praises of Mme. Ramier’s pigeon attire, and after one or two glasses of wine she was gleefully cooing in the middle of her conversations.

During the previous day’s walk, Mssrs. Agreste and Lahiffe had guaranteed their presence in the ball, securing Marinette and Alya’s first few dances. Now the three girls were chatting about their expectations for the festivities while keeping an eye on the main entrance, when Lila sighed loudly.

“Such a wonderful event! It is too bad I shan’t be enjoying myself! My heart, as you know, is off in Paris. And as for dancing, do not mention it, I beg; that is quite out of the question. Hopefully I will meet some of my mother’s friends, at least you will not feel so distressed about diverting yourselves.”

The other two were half-heartedly trying to console her, when they spotted a familiar group of gentlemen arriving. Fortunately, General Agreste had opted not to wear any garment which might conceal him: he was the only man they recognized at first glance. They all bowed in greeting, and mirthfully tried to guess each other’s identities and animals.

There was a blond cat, whose smirk Marinette immediately recognized as Adrien, totally dressed in black and complete with leather ears on top of his shaggy hair, a large golden bell tied up in his cravat, and a makeshift tale made from a belt.

Félix was wearing a blue tailcoat with matching trousers and a ruby pin holding his bottle green silk scarf. Perfecting the _ensemble_, he wore a Venetian style half face mask, exquisitely decorated with peacock feathers.

Finally, Nino was dressed in an olive-green suit, an ornate Moroccan shield cleverly attached to his back with leather straps to resemble a turtle’s carapace, a black mask, and a large green headscarf worn in the traditional Berber style.

They exchanged greetings and compliments to each other’s costumes. Alya was commending Marinette’s abilities in improvising and sewing them, when she was interrupted by General Agreste.

“You mean to tell me you fashioned these accessories yourself, Mademoiselle Dupain? With no help from a professional seamstress?”

“Yes, General; my friends did help with some of the sewing and glueing, but the creations are mine. Everything on the accessories is handmade— from the embroidery, to the weaving of the headbands, from the stitching of the mask seams to the shaping of the whalebones. All done by myself and my _assistants_,” she added, gesturing towards Alya and Lila.

“Very exquisite creations. You definitely have the laboring hands of a costume maker.” Marinette detected a hint of a smile in his usual stern expression. Adrien, on the other hand, was beaming with second-hand pride at his father’s rare praise.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! It means the world to me, coming from you, Sir!”

“Very well, then. I shall leave you young people to entertain yourselves. Adrien, I will be in the card room, there are some business associates I need to speak to at once.” He bowed to the young ladies and left, with Félix silently following him.

A high-pitched squeak followed by some quick chatter in Italian meant that Lila met her mother’s friends and excused herself to share the news of her engagement.

“I must admit I agree with the General for once,” Nino turned to Alya, “because you two look splendid!”

“I must say, you look good yourself, turtle boy,” Alya flirted. Never one to miss an opportunity for a jest, Adrien chimed in.

“Yes, my brother Nino here used to be quite shy, but he has really started to come out of his _shell_ lately.”

“Don’t you start, _whiskers_!” Turning to Alya and Marinette, he added, “I beg you, do not encourage him. When he gets started with the puns, he’s like a dog with a bone!”

“I take offense at that!” Adrien sulked, “If anything, I am like a cat with a mouse!”

Marinette, laughing, intervened: “Well, you two look very handsome, as does your cousin. Where did you get your costumes?”

“Well, certainly not out of a _cat_alogue. My father’s valet is very adept at this kind of thing. He learned the trade of a taylor in one of our factories.”

“I hope you don’t _bug_ him with these requests too often,” Marinette playfully retaliated.

“It was my father who insisted we ask him. He said it would harm our reputation if the costumes were not up to _scratch_.”

After a few more moments of mirthful chatter, the string quartet started to play a more lively tune, to mark the impending start of the dance.

Félix rejoined them only to pull his cousin away, much to Marinette’s dismay. They retired whispering together; and though they were away for only a few minutes, her imagination started to run wild, fearing that Captain Graham de Vanily must have heard some malevolent misrepresentation of her, which he now hastened to communicate to his cousin, and would separate them forever, which would be a disaster!… Her suspense ended almost as soon as it had begun, when they both returned, and Adrien asked if she thought her friend, Mlle. Rossi, would have any objection to dancing.

Marinette, without hesitation, replied that she was very sure Mlle. Rossi did not mean to dance at all, as she had confided earlier. Félix immediately walked away with a displeased look.

“It was very good-natured in him to offer to dance with Lila. I suppose he saw her sitting down, and fancied she might wish for a partner; but he is quite mistaken, for she assured me she would not dance for anything in the world.”

Adrien softly smiled, and said, “How very little trouble it can give you to understand the motive of other people's actions.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You always see the best in another person. You do not wonder what their motivations could be, but what should be your own inducement in acting so and so.”

“I do not understand you.”

“Then we are on very unequal terms, for I understand you perfectly well.”

“Me? I cannot speak well enough to be unintelligible.”

“Bravo! An excellent satire on modern language.”

“Please tell me what you mean.”

“Shall I indeed? Do you really wish it? But you are not aware of the consequences; it will involve you in a very cruel embarrassment, and certainly bring on a disagreement between us.”

“No, no; it shall not do either. I am not afraid.”

“Well, then, I only meant that your attributing my cousin’s wish of dancing with Mlle. Rossi to good nature alone convinced me of your being superior in good nature to all the rest of the world.”

Marinette blushed and disclaimed, confirming his predictions. There was something in his words, however, which warmed her heart, forgetting to speak or to listen, and almost forgetting where she was; till, roused by Lila’s giggles, she looked up and saw her stepping out to the dance floor with Félix.

When their eyes met, Lila shrugged and smiled, the only explanation of this extraordinary change of heart, and leaving Marinette in utter confusion. She spoke her astonishment in very plain terms to her partner.

“I cannot think how it could happen! Lila was so determined not to dance.”

“And did Lila never change her mind before?”

“Oh! But— your cousin! After what you told him from me, how could he think of going to ask her?”

“I cannot feign surprise on that issue. You bid me be surprised on your friend's account, and therefore I am; but as for my cousin’s conduct, I must own, it is no more than I believed him perfectly equal to. The beauty of your friend was an open attraction; but your word on her unwillingness was a challenge. She will just be another _feather in his cap_!… Now, I believe the dancing is about to begin. Shall we?”

Marinette shook away her perplexity and smiled at her partner, “we shall!”

The dance room was filling up, but Marinette noticed that the dancers were forming in couples in a circle, instead of the usual quadrilles or lines. She looked at the programme, and exclaimed: “_Viennese waltzes_? I have not danced a waltz before! I hear it is quite… _indecent_…” She whispered the last word.

Adrien laughed, “and what is worrying you the most about it? Your inexperience in dancing it or the propriety of doing so?”

“Both, I believe; I can hardly manage the dances I know without tripping over my own feet—or yours. And I… wouldn’t want to do anything _scandalous_.”

“Do you trust me, Marinette?” his voice was serious, although as gentle as ever.

“With my life,” she breathed, before she could reflect on the full implications of such an answer.

“Then follow my lead. Waltzing is actually easier than the _minuet_, with all the flourishes and twists and partner changes. You just follow my movements, counting one-two-three. Any additional steps, I will guide you. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“As for the supposed immorality of the dance, do you think I would lead you into doing anything that could be deemed reprehensible?”

“No!”

“Then let’s get into position.” He took one step closer to her, took her hands, and positioned her left hand upon his shoulder. “There. Now, allow me?” She nodded and flushed at the proximity. (She hadn’t noticed his eyes had golden specks.) He took her right hand in his left, delicately placed his right hand on her waist, and it was his turn to blush. Marinette glanced around the room, and to her relief, all the other couples were assuming similar positions.

“Well, then,” he continued, “I will lead, which means you just follow my steps. When I step forward, you step back; that is one. Then we both step to my right, that is two. Finally, we get back to the initial position; that is three. Simple enough, no?”

“I am sure I shall trip and fall! But I will give it a try!” She tried to ignore how fast her heart was beating and took another deep breath.

“We will start slow. And I will be here _cat_ch you every time you need to.”

The music started, and for the length of the first song they were silent, due to both concentration and awkwardness. By the time the second song started, their movements flowed smoothly, and Adrien ventured to start a conversation.

“You are getting along famously! Ready to try something else?” Marinette could only nod. She felt her face burning, and blessed the mask that concealed most of it.

He pressed his right hand more firmly to her waist for support, and guided her into a quarter turn. She caught her breath but maintained her balance, smiling up at him.

They continued to glide across the room, taking quarter turns and half turns at regular intervals.

“Very well, Milady! I knew you would be excellent!”

Emboldened by his praise, Marinette asked: “How did you learn to dance so well?”

“My mother had some family in Vienna, she spent some summers there before she married. That’s where she learned the waltz, it’s an old traditional style there. Then she taught me a few years ago. She said it would help me with the ladies… Was she right?”

Marinette struggled to find an answer, so she changed the subject.

“So, why a cat?”

“Why a ladybug?”

“Ladybugs are said to bring good luck. I already had my favourite dress — and as you can see, the colours did _not_ run — so it was just a matter of creating the accessories. I feel I could do anything wearing this, I feel like an altogether different person… Your turn — why a cat?”

“Well, naturally, cats are the image of _purr_fection. They are free; they go about as they please. Even when they have a loving home, they like to scatter off in their own adventures, but they always come back.”

Marinette reflected on this. “Are you not free to come and go as you please?”

“I am a little more, now. My father is very protective of me and the family business, so he kept me sheltered during the wars. Only recently have I been able to spread my wings… or my _paws_ if you will!”

She held her breath as he dared a full turn.

“Now, then, Mlle. Dupain. Are you fond of cats?”

“Yes, I-I love them. Sadly, due to my father’s trade I can not keep animals in the house, but there is a cat family in the alley behind the bakery. I sneak out at night to feed them leftovers and pet the kittens. I do enjoy petting them! And their adorable noses and soft ears—” Realizing how this might be construed, she stopped, but Adrien was quick to continue with a mock sigh.

“I have never understood why women love cats. Cats are independent, they don't listen, they don't come in when you call, they like to stay out all night, and when they're home they like to be left alone and sleep. In other words, every quality that women hate in a man, they love in a cat.”

This was too much for her; she let out a very unladylike belly-laugh, and saw some heads turn in her direction.

“Are you ever serious?”

“Seriousness is overrated. Honesty is quite a different thing, though. I can assure you that I will never lie to you, Ladybug!”

* * *

In the carriage back home, the two best friends could not hide their giddiness. That Alya and Nino were in love there could be no doubt. She kept her feelings guarded, but no mask could disguise the blush that glimmered on her cheeks whenever they were together.

As for Marinette, she was hopelessly falling in love with Adrien. His kindness and humour had attracted her before, but tonight’s physical proximity made her whole body tingle.

Much to the girls’ relief, the Ramiers did not make any comments on the propriety of the waltz. He did not know one dance from another; and she was having too much fun cooing and pecking at the other ladies to pay any attention to the ballroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues. 
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)


	8. A dinner invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette gives Lila a piece of her mind. The girls receive an invitation to a dinner-party. A letter with good and bad news. Will our heroine be able to hold her own against General Agreste?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to the wonderful [RoseGardenTwilight.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGardenTwilight/pseuds/RoseGardenTwilight) Your notes and help have been vital in approaching this story.

“_Dolcezze_!” was the first thing Marinette and Alya heard the next morning at the _thermes_. “I thought you’d never get here!”

Lila enthusiastically hugged and kissed her friends, but as she felt Marinette stiffen a little under her embrace, she looked at her in concern.

“_Che cosa succede, mia Netta_? Are you alright?”

Alya excused herself, leaving them alone. They had discussed this earlier: Marinette wanted to speak to Lila in private.

“No. I am not alright. I am upset! Yesterday evening you made a fool of Kim.” Marinette said, trying to keep her voice cold and collected.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Need you ask? All that talk of ‘no dancing, no enjoyment for Lila?’ I took you at your word. The next thing I see is you… _frolicking_ with Félix all night!”

“I do not wonder at your surprise!” Lila haughtily replied. “I was really fatigued to death. He is such a rattle! Amusing enough, if my mind had been disengaged; but I would have given the world to sit still.”

“Then why did you not?”

“Oh! My dear! It would have looked so peculiar. I refused him as long as I possibly could. You have no idea how he pressed me; and it was not that he wanted merely to dance, he insisted to dance _with me_. Oh! Such nonsense! My spirits are quite jaded with listening to his drivel: and then, being such a smart young fellow, I saw every eye was upon us.”

“He is very handsome indeed,” Marinette reflected aloud, considering how alike the cousins looked.

“Handsome! Yes, I suppose he is. I dare say people would admire him in general; but he is not at all in my style of beauty. I hate a fair complexion and light eyes in a man. However, he is very well. Amazingly conceited, I believe. I took him down several times, you know, in my own way. As for my dear Kim, I feel confident he would have wanted me to have a good time.”

“Well, I am not as certain of Kim’s tolerance, but please do not lie to me again. I do _not_ put up with lies, especially when they affect me and my loved ones.” Marinette smiled sweetly and turned away to go and find Alya, leaving Lila silently fuming.

* * *

Alya was waiting for her at the _buvette_. She told her about the conversation, and both agreed to take a step back in their friendship with Lila.

“We should _not_ confide in her going forward. I have caught her in a falsehood more than once now, and who knows how many lies she has told us and Kim. I do hope, for his sake, that I am mistaken.” Marinette pondered.

Alya, despite her initial goodwill towards the other girl, agreed: “She did deceive us on the day of the carriage ride, by confirming Théo’s lies. We can’t take anything she says at face value.”

After completing the second tour of the park, they were met by the Agreste party, who had just arrived for the morning’s cures.

Captain Graham de Vanily greeted them curtly and promptly excused himself on the pretext of meeting an army fellow, much to Marinette’s relief.

The other three gentlemen escorted them around the park in the direction of the water dispensary, Nino offering his arm to Alya and the General doing the same for Marinette. She reluctantly accepted the offer, wishing she could walk with the son instead of the father. Adrien was unusually silent and morose, and his father took charge of the conversation.

“I am told your family owns the best _pâtisserie_ in Paris. Is that correct?”

“I would not say it is the best, but we are fortunate to have a good number of faithful customers. My parents work very hard for their success.”

“I do not doubt that, Mlle. Marinette— if you allow the familiarity. You see, nobility notwithstanding, we lost everything but our name in the Revolution. I conquered everything I own today by the sweat of my brow. I respect a common, hard working artisan ten thousand times more than any high-born aristocrat.”

“I… thank you, sir. I did not expect that… I mean, your family name is so venerable!”

“A noble name can be crucial, yes — but if its bearer is unworthy, they might as well have no name at all. Look at all the old families that vanished after the upheaval. I stayed, struggled and built an empire, but I had to abandon old prejudices and embrace the changes to our society.”

“It is peculiar what can be contained in a name,our family’s is a simple but dignified one,” said Marinette, stealing a glance in Adrien’s direction. “My grandfather told me of an ancestor, the Gaul Paindemix, who fought alongside Vercingétorix against the Romans! I do not know how or when it was changed into ‘Dupain’, but we are proud of it. Bread is life, creation, nutrition, culture. You can tell a lot from a place by tasting the local bread. I would not trade my humble beginnings for all the riches in the world!”

“I have to agree with you, Mlle. Marinette. Your modesty says a lot about your character.”

Marinette was lost for an answer, so she silently nodded in acceptance of the compliment. They took a few turns in silence, before catching up with Nino and Alya, at which point the General addressed both girls.

“I would very much like to invite you both for dinner at our place, _mesdemoiselles_. Will you be available tomorrow evening?”

Words continued to elude her as she attempted to acknowledge the question. Alya stepped in, as they had no plans, effusively accepting the invitation.

“Very well, then. No formal attire is necessary. I will send my carriage to fetch you. We will be expecting you at 5:30 for a 6 o’clock dinner. Now please excuse me, I have an important business meeting before luncheon. See you later at home, boys.”

After saying their goodbyes, the couples resumed their walk. Marinette looped her arm around Adrien's, his smile lighting up like the sky after a rainstorm. A familiar playfulness returned to his voice.

“You seem to have gained my father’s approval. That is quite extraordinary, I must say.”

“It is even more to me; I have done nothing to earn it!”

“Nothing except being yourself — that would be more than enough for anyone. Moreover, I _know_ the way you responded to his questions pleased him: he loathes social climbers and fortune hunters, and is wary of anyone who might approach me or my cousin with that purpose.”

The blush on Marinette’s cheeks, that seemed to be permanent whenever they were together, intensified.

“You think he was… testing me?”

“I am sure of it; and I am sure he liked what you said.”

Turning a corner, they saw Captain Graham de Vanily and Lila walking together, talking in whispers and heads almost touching, the girl occasionally giggling into her fan. Marinette could not hide her displeasure at this, prompting Adrien to ask:

“I wonder why it bothers you so much to see my cousin and Lila together.”

“Well, _my_ cousin Kim has asked Lila to marry him. They are as good as engaged. He is gone to Paris to get his parents’ consent to the union.”

“I see… Have they made this engagement public?”

“Not yet; Kim wanted to secure the approval before any announcement.”

“Then how would you expect Félix to know she is taken?”

Marinette failed to find a reply.

* * *

Mme. Rossi had invited Mme. Ramier and her charges to spend the afternoon at the Barbot residence that same day, so the three made their way there after luncheon.

Lila and her mother were visibly upset. The former was holding a letter to her bosom, with the latter trying to console her.

“… I am aware I have very little by way of dowry, but this is too cruel!”

“What is it, dear?” Alya worriedly embraced her. Lila held out the letter, crying:

“I just got word from dear Kim. His parents consent to our engagement, but we can only marry after he completes his studies. _His part of the family inheritance will not be made available before he finishes University and gainful employment_, they say! Their influence over the Ambassador of Vietnam might grant him a diplomatic position, but he will have to show his worth.”

“These are excellent prospects, Lila.” Marinette said perusing the letter, not only to appease but also to ground her. “I know Kim’s family closely: his father being a diplomat, they make a very decent living, and no expense is spared. Their livelihood is not luxurious, but respectable and comfortable.”

“It is not on my own account I wish for more; but I cannot bear to be the means of injuring my dear Kim, making him work to earn just enough for the common necessities of life. I never think of myself.”

“I am sure you knew of Kim’s position when he proposed; he never claimed to be a wealthy man!”

“Oh, dearest! Do not get me wrong! It is not the want of fortune that makes me a little out of spirits; I hate money; and if our union could take place now and in utter poverty, I would be the happiest girl in the world. Ah! There's the sting. The long, long, endless two years that are to pass before your cousin can be independent.”

Marinette wanted to believe that the delay of the marriage was the only source of Lila’s regret, but the seeds of mistrust kept gnawing at the back of her mind.

* * *

The next day brought the bustle of preparations for dinner at the Agrestes. Marinette and Alya emptied the whole content of their wardrobes on top of their beds.

“General Agreste said we do not need to dress formally, but I want to look as good as possible,” Marinette fretted.

“Are you sure about that? Nino told me the dinners there are a formal affair.”

“Hmm… Do you think we should go with formal wear, then?”

“Yes, they always wear dark suits and tails. What do you think? The green or the beige?”

“If we are going full evening dress, the green with short sleeves is better. With these satin gloves, this _fichu_ for the _décolletage_. And those black shoes. We’ll do your hair in a Grecian updo, like so… Nino will be besotted when he sees you!”

Alya clapped in approval, and they moved on to Marinette’s side.

“Now, for me… not the red one again… what do you think of this one?” She was holding a pink silk dress with short sleeves lined with black lace, with a delicate cherry blossom embroidery across the bodice. “With this _fichu_… and this black spencer… and these pink shoes?”

“Perfection!”

They got dressed, laughing and chatting all the time, teasing each other about Adrien and Nino.

General Agreste’s carriage arrived exactly at the appointed time. It was a grand landau, pulled by four pristine white horses, and driven by a very large, grumpy-looking man, who responded to the girls’ greetings with a grunt. When they arrived at the _chalet_, the silent coachman helped them down, as a maid expected them at the door to take their hats and coats.

The chalet the Agrestes had rented for their stay was large and opulent, decorated with gilded wood and red velvet wallpaper and exquisite furnishings.

Nino and Adrien were expecting them in the drawing room. Félix would not be joining them for dinner, as he was attending a previous engagement with some of his fellow officers, and General Agreste would join them in the dining room.

The half-hour before dinner was spent in pleasant and humourous conversation between the four.

A little before 6 o’clock the young men escorted the ladies to the dining room, anxious to be there before the time the General appointed.

“Ah, Mlle. Marinette, Mlle. Alya… welcome to my humble abode!”

They curtsied and greeted the General, who pulled a chair for Marinette to sit at his right side with Adrien next to her. Nino, as a foreign dignitary, sat to the left of the General, with Alya next to him.

During the first course, the conversation was pleasant, if formal, discussing safe topics like the weather and the latest concerts. General Agreste then admired Marinette’s dress, voicing his opinion in an outspoken yet gracious manner.

“That is an exquisite embroidery on your dress. Did you make it yourself?”

“Yes, Sir, I copied a pattern from my mother’s favourite _qipao_. She had some of her heirloom garments shipped from China as her _trousseau_.”

“Ah, Chinese inspiration? I was under the impression that the cherry blossom pattern was Japanese in origin.”

“Actually, this design originates from China, as my Mother has taught me. It symbolizes female beauty and strength, love and passion.”

“That is so interesting, Marinette!” Adrien praised, truly impressed. “And the embroidery is very pretty—”

“Yes, yes, you are indeed a very accomplished young woman… I was not aware of your mother’s ancestry.”

Marinette was taken aback. Over the years, she got used to hearing unkind comments about her mother’s origin. She certainly did not expect this, but took a deep breath, to gather the courage to reply.

She felt Adrien’s hand holding hers under the table. After a moment of shock, she took courage from his touch and faced the General.

“Yes, my mother is Chinese. I hope that does not change your opinion of me.”

“Mlle. Marinette, I am an educated man, and have traveled extensively for business. I assure you, I am not prejudiced against other cultures. You and Mlle. Césaire will always be welcome in my home.”

“I am happy to hear it, sir.”

Eager to move to another topic, Alya then expressed her admiration for the dining hall. General Agreste seemed to puff up with pride.

“It is a fine room, though rather small, in my opinion. I am sure you are used to much larger rooms at M. Ramier’s townhouse.”

“Not in the least,” Marinette replied, “theirs is a beautiful, cozy home, seeing as it is only for the two of them and a few occasional guests.”

“Well, at any rate, these are merely rented lodgings, and for a short time at that. Our home has much better rooms.”

Adrien was silent, mortified by his father’s boasts. Nino noticed his friend’s embarrassment and changed the subject.

“And how long will you and the Ramiers be in Vichy for?”

Alya responded, a certain melancholy in her voice: “We return to Paris in three weeks. M. Ramier was prescribed six weeks of treatments, and he is determined to return to Paris as soon as they are finished.”

“I cannot censure him,” continued General Agreste, “however agreeable the Vichy experience can be, enduring it for more than a few weeks is tiresome.”

“Harsh words, General,” answered Nino with a smile, “I dare say, for us younger people it does afford much more opportunity for enjoyment. Even in Paris, we rarely go out more than two or three times a week, whereas here there is entertainment to be had every evening.”

General Agreste sneered as he answered:

“Enjoyment! Yes indeed, there is much enjoyment to be had. Distractions, I say. People stay up all night, sleep all day, they show no agency or creativity, only indolence and vanity all around. It is worse than Paris, I tell you!”

The unexpected outburst killed the good mood for the rest of the evening, and any further attempt at conversation was fruitless.

* * *

Marinette reflected upon the night’s events as they were driven home in silence. Alas, her expectations had been so very high for the dinner-party that disappointment was inevitable. Their host was polite and welcoming, but cold and pretentious. And if Adrien and Nino were as amiable as always, their good humour visibly sank when the General joined them. She could not deny the restlessness she felt in his presence. His attentions to her did not appease her — on the contrary, they only made her question his sincerity. Why was he behaving like this? Sometimes arrogant, other times affable; often intimidating, occasionally cordial, but always unfathomable! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues. 
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)


	9. Love is found, love is wronged, love is lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say love can be fleeting… and Marinette is just about to witness the truth of that old saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to the wonderful [RoseGardenTwilight.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGardenTwilight/pseuds/RoseGardenTwilight) Your notes and help have been vital in approaching this story.

Another week went by after the dinner at the Agreste place. The Parisian girls continued on with their routine: _thermes_ in the morning, reading and arts in the afternoon, and entertainment in the evening.

The attachment between Alya and Nino grew stronger every day. Soon they were holding hands and whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Marinette and Adrien, both more reserved in temperament, had forged a pleasant friendship which might evolve to something more in the near future. All in all, the four were inseparable, and the prospect of going back home was heartbreaking for everyone.

One morning, Alya announced to Marinette that Nino had proposed. The girls laughed and cried and embraced, and vowed to be each other’s maid of honour.

The prospective couple wrote home, and within a week, permission to continue the courtship had been granted by both families. Nevertheless, due to the differences in religion and the eminence of his family, it was agreed that they should have some meetings between family representatives, in order to negotiate all the terms of their marriage. Alya, as a Catholic Christian, was part of the ‘People of the Book’, which meant she would not need to convert to Islam to be allowed to marry Nino. On the other hand, her family was not rich or important and had four daughters vying for a dowry. All this was overlooked by Nino’s family. His father had married a lower-class woman for love, and being a career diplomat who travelled the world, he was lenient about following Moroccan customs. In addition, Nino being the second son, there were no prospects for a marriage of convenience. The future seemed very bright for them.

* * *

The girls’ relationship with Lila remained civil, for the sake of Mme. Ramier, Signora Rossi, and Kim. They still spent a few afternoons together and were polite when meeting at social events. The mornings spent at the Thermes often threw them closer together, as the older ladies enjoyed taking the waters and the strolls together. One morning, while Alya walked about with Nino, Marinette and Lila were left alone, sitting on a garden bench. The latter had asked to speak privately, but her eye was continually scouring the place.

“Who are you looking for? Are any of your friends from Sardinia coming?”

“I am not looking for anybody. One's eyes must be somewhere. I am amazingly absent; I believe I am the most absent creature in the world. Félix says it is always the case with minds of a certain stamp.”

“I thought you had something in particular to tell me?” Marinette asked, trying to ignore her silly words.

“Oh! Yes, and so I have. My poor head, I had quite forgot it. Well, the thing is this: I have just had a letter from Théo; you can guess the contents.”

“No, indeed, I cannot.”

“_Mi amore_, do not be so affected. What can he write about, but yourself? You know he is head over heels in love with you.”

“With me?!” was Marinette’s incredulous reply.

“Now, now, don’t be absurd! It is fishing for compliments. Modesty is very well and all that, but a little common honesty is quite as becoming. Théo’s attentions were such as a child must have noticed. And he writes that just before he left Vichy you gave him the most positive encouragement.”

Marinette, with all the earnestness of truth, expressed her astonishment at such a charge, refuting every knowledge of M. Barbot's being in love with her, and the consequent impossibility of her having ever intended to encourage him. They had only shared a handful of civilities on public occasions and the horrid carriage drive. She was at a loss as to when these love professions might have taken place.

“There must be some mistake. I could not have misunderstood something like that, you know! Please undeceive him as soon as you can! You know very well that if I had such feelings— he is not the person.”

“Yes, yes. A little harmless flirtation or so will occur. I am the last person in the world to judge you. All those things should be allowed for in youth and high spirits. So, you are determined against poor Théo — is it not so?”

“I cannot return his affection, and certainly never meant to encourage it.”

“Since that is the case, I shall not tease you any further.” Lila fell silent, still showing a little annoyance.

Félix approached them and took a seat next to Lila at her silent invitation. Though spoken low, Marinette heard his reproach:

“What! Always to be watched, in person or by proxy!”

“Nonsense!” was Lila’s answer in the same half-whisper. “My spirit, you know, is pretty independent.”

“I wish your heart were independent. That would be enough for me.”

“My heart, indeed! What do you know of hearts? You men have none of you any hearts.”

“If we have not hearts, we have eyes; and they give us torment enough.”

“Do they? I am sorry they find anything so disagreeable in me. I will look another way. I hope your eyes are not tormented now.”

“Never more so; for the edge of a blooming cheek is still in view — at once too much and too little.”

Marinette could listen no longer. Amazed that Lila could endure it, and outraged on her cousin’s behalf, she rose up and excused herself. It seemed to her that Félix was falling in love with Lila, and she was encouraging him; despite Lila's attachment to Kim being as certain and well acknowledged as her engagement. She found solace in the expectation of the Agreste family leaving Vichy in a few weeks, removing that obstacle from the way of her cousin’s happiness.

* * *

One evening, in the intermission of a play, General Agreste approached them, Adrien and Nino silent by his side.

“Mesdemoiselles, we have been plotting a very bold plan. We go home, as you perhaps know, a week from Saturday. A letter from my steward tells me that my presence is wanted at home. My treatments completed, and my business associates gone, there is nothing to detain me here in Vichy.”

Marinette’s heart sank with the prospect of seeing their friends gone. Gabriel continued:

“I have been mandated by Consul Lahiffe to negotiate the terms of the marriage between his son and Mlle. Césaire on his behalf, as he is travelling to the Americas this week. It will make it easier to do so from Rouen, as it is much closer to Paris than Vichy. Not to mention the pleasure and diversion your presence will add to our home. Can you, in short, be prevailed on to join us for a few weeks’ stay at the Abbaye Notre-Dame-des-Miracles”

Alya and Marinette could hardly conceal their excitement. To receive such a flattering invitation! To have their company so warmly solicited!

“We shall write home immediately,” replied Marinette, “and if they do not object, we would be honoured.”

Letters were accordingly sent and replied to, and the girls enthusiastically packed their belongings for the trip.

* * *

The day of their departure for Rouen loomed closer. They kept to their routine, as much as possible, except that since Nino and Alya were now openly courting, Adrien and Marinette were constantly alone together. One day, noticing her atypical low spirits, he asked what could be bothering her. She unburdened her worries in regards to Lila and Félix.

“At least it will all be over soon, with the Captain leaving for Rouen,” she sighed in relief.

“Félix will not travel with us, he wishes to stay on in Vichy. He states ‘there is much entertainment to be had here.’”

“_Entertainment_? Does he know Lila is engaged?”

“My cousin does know it.”

“Does he? Then why does he stay here?”

Despite his silence, an idea formed in her mind.

“Why don’t you persuade him to go away? The longer he stays, the worse it will be for him. He can have no hope here, and he is only staying to be miserable.”

Adrien smiled and said, “I am sure my cousin would not listen to me. I have myself told him that Mlle. Rossi is engaged. He knows what he is doing, and must be his own master.”

“No, he does not know what he is doing,” cried Marinette; “he does not know the pain Kim will suffer.”

“Is it my cousin’s attentions to Mlle. Rossi, or Mlle. Rossi's admission of them, that gives the pain?”

“Is it not the same thing?”

“I think Kim would acknowledge a difference. No man is offended by another man's admiration of the woman he loves; only the woman can make it a torment.”

“Lila is… complicated, and I have caught her in a lie more than once. But she is very much attached to Kim. She has been in love with him ever since they first met.”

“I understand: she is in love with Kim, and flirts with Félix.”

“Oh! no, not _flirts_. A woman in love with one man cannot flirt with another.”

“It is probable that she neither loves so well, nor flirts so well, to do either exclusively. The gentlemen must each give up a little.”

“But what can your cousin mean? If he knows her engagement, what can he mean by his behaviour?”

“You ask too many questions.”

“Do I? I only ask what I want to be told.”

“My dear Marinette,” said Adrien, taking her hands and looking her in the eyes, “maybe you are mistaken about your friend? Is this engagement only to be secured by the absence of Félix? Is she safe only in solitude? Or is her heart constant to Kim only when unsolicited by anyone else? I will not say, ‘Do not be uneasy,’ because I know that you are so, at this moment; but be as little uneasy as you can. Though Félix does not leave Vichy with us, he will probably remain but a very short time, perhaps only a few days behind us. His leave will soon expire, and he must return to his regiment. And what will then be their acquaintance? The mess-room will gossip about Lila Rossi for a fortnight, and she will laugh with your cousin over poor Félix’s passion for a month.”

Marinette could not resist his comforting words. She let go of her worries, and stood firm in her decision not to meddle. This flirting affair between Lila and Félix would be a test to Kim and Lila’s attachment. If it was meant to be, it would surely survive a little teasing; if it were to crumble, it might be for the best for all sides.

* * *

On the Wednesday before their departure, Kim and Théo returned from Paris. Théo was still trying to gain Marinette’s favour, but now that she was aware of his intentions she rejected his advances unequivocally.

She watched Lila and Kim closely. Nothing passed between the lovers to increase her uneasiness: he was as affectionate and doting as ever, and she placidly reacted to his gallantries, with adoring looks.

Marinette resisted the urge to warn Kim about Lila’s behaviour. She hated to gossip, and Kim would probably not believe her anyway. She trusted that Lila would be honourable enough to cancel the engagement if things got serious with Félix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues. 
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)


	10. The Abbey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette and her friends finally travel to L’Abbaye Notre-Dame-des-Miracles. Who knows what secrets may lurk in the ancient building? What tales of woe can be found — or hidden — within its walls?

Finally the day arrived when the Agreste family and their guests were to depart for Rouen. At 10 o’clock sharp on Saturday, there were two vehicles ready for them. One was the landau which had conveyed them to dinner at the Agreste chalet, driven by the large valet. The other one was a fine curricle, with room for two passengers and a few boxes tied to the back, and driven by Adrien.

General Agreste shouted out the orders for the girls’ trunks to be accommodated as quickly as possible, in between grumbles over the excessive baggage they had brought. His apprehension regarding overloading the carriage was such that Marinette had some difficulty in saving her own new writing desk from being thrown out into the street.

The trip would take a few days, even longer than the one from Paris to Vichy. The General was so demanding with their keeping good time that they would not stop for sleep, taking some breaks to change the horses and feed themselves and sleeping _en route_ instead.

For the first days of the trip, the General accompanied Adrien in his curricle, often taking over the driving, the rest of the travelers accommodated in the landau, which allowed them to nap for some of the time.

On their last day of travel, Marinette was surprised by the general’s proposal of her taking his place in his son’s curricle for the last leg of the journey.  
“The day is fine, and I am adamant that you see as much of the country as possible.”

Her first impulse was to decline the offer, reflecting upon the propriety of riding alone with Adrien; considering however, that neither son nor father would impose anything improper, she assented, hopping up into her seat, as happy a being as ever existed.

Adrien drove so well, so quietly, without making any disturbance, without parading to her, or swearing at the horses: so different from the only gentleman-coachman whom it was in her power to compare him with! And then his hat sat so well, and his greatcoat looked so becoming! To be driven by him, next to dancing with him, was certainly the greatest happiness in the world.

“I can barely wait to see the Abbey!” Marinette sighed. “It must be a wonderful place to live!”

He smiled, and said, “You have formed a very favourable idea of the Abbey.”

“To be sure, I have. Is it a fine old place, just like in the novels?”

“Are you prepared for all the horrors you may find?” He teased in a mock-sinister voice. “Have you a stout heart? Nerves fit for sliding panels and creaking floorboards?”

“Oh! Yes— I shouldn’t be easily frightened, with so many people in the house — and besides, it has never been left deserted for years, only for the family to come back without giving any notice, as generally happens.”

“Certainly not! We shall not have to explore dimly lit halls, nor be obliged to spread our beds on the floor of a room without windows, doors, or furniture. But you must be aware that when a young lady is invited into a dwelling of this kind, she is always lodged apart from the rest of the family. While they snugly repair to their own end of the house, she is formally conducted by the ancient housekeeper, up a different staircase, and along many gloomy passages, into an apartment never used since some relative died in it about twenty years before. Can you stand such a scenario? Will your skin tingle when you find yourself in this gloomy chamber — too lofty for you, a single candle illuminating the walls, eerie tapestries exhibiting figures as large as life that seem to move with the light, and the bed, of dark green or purple velvet, presenting a funereal appearance? Will your heart sink within you?”

“Oh! This will not happen to me, I am sure.” She was sure he was in jest, but was enthralled by his yarn.

“How fearfully will you examine the furniture of your apartment! And what will you find? Not tables, toilettes, wardrobes, or drawers, but on one side perhaps the remains of a broken lute, on the other a ponderous chest which no efforts can open, and over the fireplace the portrait of some handsome warrior, whose features will so incomprehensibly strike you, that you will not be able to withdraw your eyes from it. The old housekeeper will drop a few hints that the part of the Abbey you inhabit is undoubtedly haunted, and informs you that you will not have a single domestic within call. You will listen to the sound of her receding footsteps as she leaves — and when you attempt to fasten your door, you will discover, with increased alarm, that it has no lock.”

“Oh! M. Agreste, how frightful!” She suppressed a giggle, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture. “This is just like a book! But it cannot really happen to me. Well, what then?”

“You may be spared further terror for the first night. After conquering your horror of the bed, you will retire to rest, and get a few hours’ unquiet slumber. But on the second, or at most the third night after your arrival, you will probably have a violent storm. Peals of thunder so loud as to seem to shake the edifice to its foundation will roll round the neighbouring mountains — and during the frightful gusts of wind which accompany it, you will probably think you discern one part of the hanging more violently agitated than the rest. Unable of course to repress your curiosity, you will instantly arise, and throwing your dressing-gown around you, proceed to examine this mystery. After a very short search, you will discover a division in the tapestry so artfully constructed as to defy the minutest inspection, and on opening it, a door will immediately appear which will lead into a small vaulted room.”

“No, indeed; I should be too frightened to do any such thing.”

“What! Not when you heard rumours about a secret subterraneous communication between your apartment and the chapel of St. Anthony, a few hundred yards off? Could you shrink from so simple an adventure? No, no, taking an inexplicably burning torch, you will proceed into the small room, and through this into several others, without perceiving anything very remarkable in either. In one perhaps there may be a dagger, in another a few drops of blood, and in a third the remains of some instrument of torture; but there being nothing out of the ordinary in all this, and your torch nearly exhausted, you will return to your own room. In the small vaulted room, however, your eyes will be attracted towards a large, old-fashioned cabinet of ebony and gold, which, though narrowly examining the furniture before, you had passed unnoticed. Impelled by an irresistible presentiment, you will eagerly advance to it, unlock its folding doors, and search into every drawer — for some time without discovering anything of importance — perhaps nothing but a handful of diamonds. At last, however, by touching a secret spring, an inner compartment will open — a roll of paper appears — you seize it — it contains many sheets of manuscript — you hasten with the precious treasure into your own chamber, but scarcely have you been able to decipher — ‘_Oh! Thou, whomsoever thou mayst be, into whose hands these memoirs of the wretched Matilda may fall’_ — when your candle suddenly expires in the socket, and leaves you in total darkness.”

“Oh! No, no — do not say so. Well, go on.”

But Adrien was too amused by her enthusiasm to be able to carry it any further; he could no longer feign solemnity either of subject or voice, and urged her to use her own fancy in the contents of Matilda’s woes. Marinette, recollecting herself, grew ashamed of her eagerness, and began earnestly to assure him that her attention had been fixed without the smallest apprehension of really meeting with what he related.

“Your father, I am sure, would never put me into such a chamber as you described! I am not at all afraid.” His only reply was a fond smile.

She sighed and they fell into a peaceful silence, enjoying the scenery. After a few minutes, the rocking of the carriage and the warmth of the afternoon sun made Marinette drowsy, her head bobbing from side to side, and finally stopping when it found support in Adrien’s strong shoulder. He looked down at her in delighted surprise as she hooked her hand in his elbow and snuggled into his arm.

They rode a few hours longer until he gently woke her. “Pssst… Marinette… We’re here!”

Sitting up and yawning, she looked around to look at her surroundings. Straight ahead, bathed in the orange light of the setting sun, was an imposing building, larger than a city house, but smaller than a Château. One of the wings was built in a Romanesque style, with a tower and arches, but the remainder of the building seemed to have been respectfully and tastefully added in modern times. The woods and gardens surrounding it were lush and well kept.

“You are so wonderful!” she said, before recollecting herself. “I mean, IT IS so wonderful! The Abbey!”

Adrien smiled, “My parents rebuilt it from the ruins before I was born. They hired an architect, but my mother supervised the whole process, from the design to the choice in materials. It took a few years, with the wars and all, but it was her dream home, like she used to say. It was a shame she only enjoyed it for such a short time.”

Marinette absent-mindedly caressed his arm where she was still supported, and felt some of the tension leaving him.

“You miss her very much, do you not?” she questioned softly.

“Every day. It’s funny, sometimes I dream that she comes back, in some mysterious manner, and I confide in her about my life, my friends… you. It is always a shock to wake up to the reality she is gone for good. It aches every time.”

“How long ago?”

“It will be five years this Autumn. I was away at school in Switzerland. The Dean called me into his office and told me the news, and I was left alone to process everything. It was then that Nino proved himself as the best friend a man can have. He did not leave my side. I came home immediately, but the trip took so long I missed the funeral. I couldn’t even say goodbye.”

“I am sorry. I am sure it was difficult for you and your father.”

Adrien shook his head and changed the subject. “Well, it seems we are expected,” and in a few minutes he pulled over to the front of the brightly lit house.

The main doors of the edifice opened and a multitude of domestics exited and formed a double line to receive their masters. At the top of the stairs, against the light of the doorway, was the silhouette of a tall, slender woman. Marinette concluded it was Nathalie, the ‘evil housekeeper’, as Nino had called her.

The travelers stepped out of their vehicles and made their way to the home, followed by a bustle of servants carrying their luggage.

“Welcome back home, General Agreste… M. Adrien. M. Lahiffe. Mesdemoiselles. I trust the trip was uneventful.”

Marinette was surprised to see that Nathalie was younger than the General, and pretty in an austere way. She was dressed in a plain black dress and wore silver spectacles. Her black hair was tied back in a low bun, except for a stray white lock that kept falling over her eyes, which she constantly tucked behind her ear. She smiled lightly as she greeted them, and her eyes seemed to soften when General Agreste spoke to her about the arrangements for the visitors.

She accompanied Alya and Marinette to their chambers. They climbed a broad staircase of shining oak, which brought them to a long, wide gallery, at the end of which was their apartment.

“I hope you find your accommodations satisfactory. I gathered you would be more comfortable staying together in the same room.” Two chambermaids carried their baggage into the room. “Jeanne and Héléne will unpack your trunks. Please make as little alteration as possible in your dress; supper will be served in thirty minutes. Do _not_ be late.”

Marinette rejoiced in finding a very different room than the one Adrien had described. It was just the right size for the two of them, and there were no eerie tapestries or dark velvet furnishings.

The girls bustled to get ready for supper, removed their bonnets and overcoats and washed up. They tried to make their way back to the hall they had seen on their way up, but took a wrong turn at one of the corridors and ended up in the servants’ wing. Eventually, they met a valet who kindly directed them to the dining room, where an impatient General Agreste awaited. On the very instant of their entering, he pulled the bell with violence and ordered: “Supper to be on the table directly!”

The meal took place in almost silence, save for the occasional boast about the house or the dining set from General Agreste. They were met with monosyllabic replies.

Everyone returned to their chambers right after supper, as the trip had been long and tiresome, and all were in much need of rest, but not before General Agreste warned them that breakfast would be served at 8:00 sharp, implying that any delay would mean sacrificing the meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues. 
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful [RoseGardenTwilight.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGardenTwilight/pseuds/RoseGardenTwilight) Your insight and advice helped me write a much better story.


	11. Émilie’s Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During their stay at the Abbey, our heroines uncover some secrets, while others must remain concealed… for now.  
Adrien's late mother Émilie and her legacy are a constant presence all around the mansion and beyond.  
Marinette gets to know Adrien _much_ better.

The housemaids folding back the curtains at seven o'clock the next day roused Marinette, who opened her eyes to a warm fire burning and a bright sunrise. Rushed by the maids, the girls made their toilette and got dressed for breakfast in good time, dismissing them after just twenty minutes.

“This place is everything I dreamed it would be, and more!” sighed Marinette, twirling in the middle of the room.

“Yes, and you will make a fine addition to it someday,” teased Alya, grabbing her friends’ hands and spinning them both, “if what I saw yesterday is any indication. You and Adrien were _very_ _cosy_ during the trip!”

“Oh hush, Alya… there is nothing going on, we were just talking.” And yet, the blush on her cheeks contradicted her words.

“Well, I could swear I saw you leaning snugly against him when I looked out of the carriage window.”

“I… I must have dozed off, and my head fell, that is all… — what is _that_?” Marinette pointed at a large high chest, standing back in a deep recess on one side of the fireplace. How did they miss it yesterday? It was rather conspicuous in the daylight! “This is so eerie! I did not expect this! Such an immense heavy chest! What can it hold? Why should it be placed here?” she approached the corner of the room and examined the wood.

Alya joined her in the investigation. “Pushed back too, as if meant to be out of sight!” There was a silver monogram shield on the centre of the lid, but they were unable to decipher it. “We should open it and see what is in there!”

They joined forces and tried to open the chest. They pushed and pulled at the lid from different directions, but to no avail.

“It must be locked,” Alya said, “this is very odd!”

They fiddled with the latch, found a hidden switch and managed to slide it open. They pushed the lid up, and this time it yielded! To their relief (or maybe to their disappointment) it seemed to be empty. Marinette climbed on a chair and leaned in to get a better look. A roll of paper was tucked into a corner, looking like someone had tried to conceal it. She picked up the bundle and was about to show it to her friend, when a loud knock followed by the door opening startled them. Nathalie entered the room to urge them to go down for breakfast. Startled, Marinette fell down from the chair and Alya dropped the lid with a very loud bang.

Composing herself, Marinette hid the sheets behind her back and both girls blushed profusely and mumbled some greetings. The housekeeper maintained a dead serious countenance, despite the commotion.

“That is a curious old chest, is not it?” Nathalie said, after clearing her throat. “It is impossible to say how many years it has been in the family. It was already in this room when I started to work here, but I have not had it moved, as it might be useful in holding hats and bonnets. The worst of it is that its weight makes it difficult to open. In that corner, however, it is at least out of the way.”

The girls blurted some unintelligible words of apology at the same time, only to be interrupted.

“I came up to tell you breakfast will be on the table in five minutes. Please come with me, lest you get… _lost_ again. Come along!”

They hurried behind her, taking in the details hidden by the darkness the previous evening. Alya noticed a dark, spiral staircase, and asked where it lead.

“This staircase leads to a private study. It is absolutely off-limits, as the stairs are in disrepair and may be dangerous.”

The girls exchanged a meaningful look, Alya raising an eyebrow. This sounded like a poor excuse, and they would certainly investigate further.

* * *

After breakfast, the General took Marinette and Alya on a guided tour of the property. He showed them all the common rooms, the great halls and the library. On the top of the main staircase there was an enormous painting of him and Adrien, which he explained had been commissioned shortly after his wife’s funeral. They were both dressed in black and had a solemn look. Marinette’s heart clenched in sympathy for the hurt evident in the boy’s eyes.

He informed them that at the top of the stairs, to the left, was the location of his private apartments, and to the right were Adrien’s.

They proceeded to the gardens, which were carefully planned and maintained. There was an orchard with several fruit trees, a shrubbery maze and a flower garden. The grounds were peppered with stone benches and fountains.

“I am sure our abode is modest compared to what you are used to, Mlle. Marinette. I have heard that M. Ramier’s estate is superb.”

“Oh, no, General. M. Ramier has a townhouse, with only a small backyard. Your home is not only grandiose, it is beautiful, and these are the prettiest gardens I have seen.”

“You flatter me, to be sure. You are a Parisian, there are larger and better gardens there… This is no Versailles!” General Agreste beamed in the praise. He seemed bent on impressing them, Marinette in particular, and she could not fathom why.

“Respectfully, General Agreste, I have been to Versailles, and the grounds there are magnificent, but I much prefer these. They feel like they were planned to be enjoyed and not only for show!”

The General’s voice lowered as he replied: “We have my late wife’s talents to thank for this, Mlle. Marinette. She had the soul of an artist, and personally helped design the layout of the grounds.” He became silent after this, and directed them back into the main building.

This was the first time he had mentioned his wife, and Marinette wondered why he dropped the subject so hastily. She examined his face intently, only to find the habitual undecipherable expression.

The tour was thus concluded, and after luncheon the girls returned to their chambers for some repose. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Marinette rushed to the drawer where she had hidden the mysterious manuscript they had found in the chest. They sat by the window to see better, and tried to decipher the scrawlings on the ancient paper. The roll seemed to consist entirely of small disjointed sheets, and was much smaller than she had supposed it to be at first.

They carefully perused each of the pages. Could it be possible? An inventory of linen, in coarse and modern characters, seemed all that was before them! It was nothing but a laundry list. The next pages held further domestic bills. Finally, the larger sheet, which had enclosed the rest, was merely a blacksmith’s receipt!

“It must have been misplaced here by the previous housekeeper,” Alya concluded.

“Speaking of housekeepers, that Nathalie gives me shivers. She is so serious!”

“The servant matches the employer, then. It’s not unusual!”

“Yes, and General Agreste looked so odd when mentioning his wife, don’t you think so? As if he did not like to speak of her.”

“That is normal, though. He probably misses her,” Alya reasoned.

“You are right. I feel so silly!” Marinette chided herself, “Adrien was right to tease me, I am too suggestible!”

“What do you mean? How did he tease you?”

Marinette recounted the tales of horror Adrien had made up during the trip, much to Alya’s amusement and her own embarrassment.

“They can never hear about this! Let us put the papers back and forget it ever happened!”

“And no more novels for you, at least during our stay! You _are_ too impressionable, sweetheart!”

That night Marinette dreamt of storms and ancient furnishings, yellowed journals, villainous husbands, neglected wives and abandoned children.

* * *

The first few days of their stay at the Abbey went by without any further incidents. Alya and Nino were as inseparable as decorum allowed, whereas Marinette and Adrien’s friendship was slowly evolving into love, even under the eagle-eyed supervision of his father and Nathalie. Their presence put a damper on all their activities, be it outdoor walks, card games or lazy afternoons in the garden.

The girls were eager to investigate the study atop the mysterious spiral staircase, but were never at liberty to do so.

At the end of the first week of their stay, General Agreste was called to Paris to attend important business meetings and represent Nino’s family in marriage negotiations. The change in the young people’s mood was like a fog had lifted, solemnity and formality mostly gone. Nathalie was still attentive to their behaviour, but her duties meant she could not accompany them all hours of the day.

One sunny morning, Adrien suggested exploring the farthest edge of the property on horseback. The girls, being city dwellers, did not have much experience riding, but Marinette was up for the challenge, Nino and Alya deciding to stay behind to enjoy the Abbey gardens. Riding at a slow but steady pace, Adrien led the way decidedly, and when she asked him about their destination, he evaded the question.

Stopping at the top of a hill, Adrien dismounted and helped Marinette down with an eager grin. At a distance, on the margin of the river Robec, was a factory with some large warehouses adjoining it; close by was a small village, consisting of rows of small but neat identical houses, with a chapel in its centre.

“That is our main factory, and over there are the workers’ houses,” Adrien told Marinette, pointing at the small village. “Mother personally supervised the construction of the homes. She always insisted that we treat employees properly, and Father was unable to say _no_ to her.”

“The village is lovely! The houses are so nice and well-kept!…”

“She planned it herself, she drew the plans and painted the way she wanted the houses to look. This is her true legacy… And I mean to honour it. That big warehouse is where I am hoping to build my school…” Adrien sighed and looked back at Marinette. “What do you think?”

“You are incredible… Oh, uh— _it’s_ incredible, your project!” She felt so deeply for him, not only admiration and pride, but, she dared to think, love. “I am positive you will convince your father!”

“I am happy to hear you say that!” Taking her hand and looking into her eyes, he added, “It is such a large endeavour that I fear I won’t be able to do it all on my own— it— it would be easier with a— a partner by my side.”

“You—” she had to take a moment to steady her voice. “You mean a _business_ partner? A fellow teacher?” Hesitant, she squeezed his hand in response.

“I mean much more than that.” He coughed lightly and his gaze turned away from her to look at the village once again, but there was a distinct colour on his cheeks and a softness to his voice that did not go unnoticed. “I mentioned before, I would like to have girls in the school as well. They will need a teacher, too.”

Marinette did not reply. She was unable to find the words to do so. They stood quietly for a few minutes, hands still linked, Adrien thumb gently caressing her knuckles and finally kissing them softly.

“We’d better go back now, lunch will be served soon. Nathalie will send someone for us if we are not there in time.”

She nodded and allowed him to help her back onto the horse to go back home.

“I would have liked to know her,” Marinette ventured after another prolonged silence.

“She would have liked you,” Adrien replied with a melancholy look. “Mother always admired sincere, kind people. Would you like to see her portrait?”

“I would love to see it! Does it hang in your father's room?”

“No. It was at the top of the stairs for a while, but Father did not like the colours, and for some time it had no place. Soon after her death I claimed it for my own room — I will be happy to show it to you, it is very lifelike.”

Marinette felt a chill down her spine at this. A portrait of a departed wife, not valued by the husband? This was inconceivable to her.

“How about her plans for the village? Are they still in the house? I draw a little myself, I would love to see them!”

“I’m afraid that will not be possible, as Father does not like anyone going into my mother’s private study,” Adrien replied, evasively.

She remained silent, and wondered whether this room was the one at the end of the intriguing spiral staircase.

* * *

Once again, Adrien held her by the waist to help her dismount. Marinette considered she would never tire of his touch. As the stableman drove their horses away, Adrien looked at her intently.

“You have a little… here, allow me…” as he wiped a little speck of mud from her cheek. “There…”

Their faces were so close now, she could feel his breath on her cheeks. She leaned her head further towards him, as he bent down. He gently kissed her cheek, close to her lips, and she felt the world swept off her feet.

Clearing her throat, she thanked him, in a soft tone. She didn’t know what else to say. Her heart was beating so fast she could hardly breathe.

After composing themselves a little, Adrien took Marinette by the hand and led her to his private chamber, as promised. Trusting him implicitly, she was only awkward about being in there for a few seconds.

They approached the portrait, which showed a young woman, her face almost exactly like Adrien’s. The same green eyes and warm expression smiled back at her.

“My mother was seventeen when she posed for this portrait. She was pretty, was she not?”

Both uttered at the same time: “You have her smile—huh?”— They blushed and turned away from each other, blessing the bell that called them for luncheon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues. 
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)  
Thank you to the wonderful [RoseGardenTwilight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGardenTwilight/pseuds/RoseGardenTwilight). Your insight and advice helped me write a much better story.


	12. Danger!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pleasant day almost ends in tragedy. Marinette's inner hero surfaces and Adrien is impressed. They are now closer than ever, and not just emotionally. However, as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat... Will the budding relationship survive Marinette's poor judgement?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Head injury mentioned but not described in detail.

On the third day of General Agreste’s absence, the four friends decided to go explore the city of Rouen. There was much to be seen: the medieval city centre, the Cathedral, the Gros-Horloge…

Having walked about the whole morning, the next stop was the Jardin des Plantes for a delightful picnic and some quiet moments in the sunlight. It was a welcome break from the gloom of the Abbey and coldness of its other inhabitants.

Unrestrained by the presence of chaperones (excepting the silent coachman, who was reading a book while waiting in the carriage), the youngsters played tag and strolled about. They raced to the new greenhouse, which stood at the top of a stone stairway decorated with enormous pots. Alya, delighted to be able to run free, climbed up a couple of steps and turned back to Nino, taking a leap into his arms.

“Catch me!”

He caught her and she laughed, “again!” and climbed the stairs to jump into his arms once more. The sensation was delightful to her. They repeated the game a few times, each time from a higher step.

“Enough, Alya, that’s too high!” Nino warned, after the fourth jump. He reasoned and talked in vain.

“I am determined! I will!” she giggled.

He put out his arms; she was too precipitate by half a second and fell on the pavement, looking lifeless! There was no wound, no blood, no visible bruises; but her eyes were closed, she was not breathing, her face was like death. The two young men panicked, not knowing what to do. Nino, who had caught her up, knelt with her in his arms, looking on her with a face as pallid as her own.

“She’s not breathing!” he whispered in agony, turning to his friends for help. “Is she dead?”

Marinette felt a surge of courage taking over her whole body. She had to act, as neither of the young men knew what to do.

“Nino, rub her hands, rub her temples.” She took some salts from her purse and used them to revive her friend. After a few seconds, though still unconscious, Alya was breathing and had a little colour on her cheeks.

“Adrien, go get the carriage as close as possible. Nino, do you think you can carry her?”

Nino and Adrien nodded and obeyed silently. Marinette’s shyness and insecurities were gone, as if she had transformed into another person. Running to call his driver, Adrien felt his admiration for the young woman increase tenfold, even through his panic and worry.

In a flash, Alya was laid in the carriage, Nino holding her head to his chest. Adrien and Marinette were instinctively holding each other’s hand.

“Marinette, Marinette,” cried Nino, “What is to be done next?”

“We need to take her to a doctor. Adrien?”

“Yes. Of course!” He yelled at the driver before entering the carriage: “Head to the hospital! Hurry!”

The coachman drove so fast they got to the hospital in just a few minutes. The Agrestes were well-known to all, and soon the head surgeon, Docteur Maurice Fouquet, was examining the patient and asking for details of the fall and how long she had been unconscious, Marinette replying with precision and practicality.

“She was lucky she had you,” he said, turning to her. “If you hadn’t revived her it could have been much worse.”

Having been cooled down and relieved of heavy clothing, Alya was slowly coming to her senses.

After some hours of care, the boys were allowed in the room to see the patient. The doctor addressed Nino and hinted it would be convenient to inform Alya’s family of the incident. He took on the mission himself, despite his reluctance to leave her.

Marinette assured him she would not leave her side, which gave him more motivation to carry out his mission. It was with heavy hearts that the couple separated for the first time after so many weeks in close proximity.

While Nino was bidding an emotional farewell to his fiancée, Adrien took Marinette’s hand and gently pulled her outside the room to afford them more privacy.

As far back as Marinette could remember, her response to any dangerous situation was to keep calm and take charge, in order to come up with the best solution. Now that the ordeal was over, a few tears welled up in her eyes as her body trembled on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Adrien rubbed her arms to soothe her — it was the best he could do in the busy hospital corridor.

“You were nothing short of heroic today, are you aware of that?” his soft voice as reassuring as his touch. His hands sought hers once again by sheer impulse. “You are _so_ brave. We would have been lost if not for you.”

He kissed her forehead and she felt peace wash over her heart, body and soul. She allowed his lips to linger for a moment, before pulling back and offering her own lips to kiss instead.

Nervous and hesitant, Adrien scanned their surroundings to verify they were alone before taking her lips in a kiss. His gentle but urgent touch was brimming with emotion and Marinette felt it ended much too soon.

They were brought back to reality by Nino as he exited the room wiping his eyes.

“Marinette, thank you for your help today. Thanks to you and your coolness, Alya’s is not in danger, and I will not forget it.”

He bowed and kissed her hand, before urging Adrien to leave.

The two young men rode to Paris that very same day.

* * *

After two days in the hospital, Docteur Fouquet deemed Alya well enough to go back to the Abbaye Notre-Dame-des-Miracles.

“When will she be able to travel back home to Paris, Docteur?” Marinette asked, worried their parents would be excessively alarmed by the news. Their professional affairs would likely hinder them from coming to Rouen.

“Let her stay at General Agreste’s for some time. I shall visit in a few days to see how she fares. In the meantime, she needs to rest and avoid strong emotions. Take this ointment and apply on the injury three times a day. She should be well in a week or two.”

“Thank you, Docteur Fouquet!” Marinette took the phial of ointment and guided the coachman as he carried Alya to the carriage.

* * *

Urgent letters were dispatched to the girls’ families, and a note to General Agreste, in order to let everyone know Alya was out of danger and recovering well. In response, they were informed that Adrien and Nino were to return in two days.

Marinette was a diligent and tireless nurse, but in between the times where Alya needed her, or at those times when she was too tired for conversation, monotony would set in, and one day she found herself exploring the Abbey just to find some distraction.

She stood at the bottom of the sinister spiral staircase, which was cordoned off with a velvet rope. Looking both ways, she unhooked the rope and climbed the stairs cautiously. As she ascended, images of a darkened room and spartan furnishings filled her imagination. A picture of torture devices and manacles flashed through her mind, only to be quickly dismissed.

It was true the ancient stone steps were not safe: the years had worn them out so much they were polished and slanted to a slippery angle, and the shaky old iron handrail did not provide much added security. When she reached the top, she found an old wooden door. It was not locked, and gave in after a few strong pushes.

On tiptoe she entered; the room was before her; but it was some minutes before she could advance another step. The vision before her eyes fixed her to the spot in surprise.

She saw a large, well-proportioned apartment, spotlessly cleaned with a housemaid's care, a mahogany work desk and neatly painted chairs, on which the warm beams of a western sun poured through two sash windows! An easel displayed what looked like an unfinished painting, portraying younger Adrien and Gabriel playfully fencing with wooden swords, surrounded by the flowery gardens of the Abbey.

Marinette had expected to have her feelings worked, and worked they were. Astonishment and doubt first seized them; and a shortly succeeding ray of common sense added some bitter emotions of shame. She turned to leave, closing the door behind her.

She went down the stairs as fast as humanly possible without falling, and before she could reach the bottom, she was surprised to see Adrien’s eyes looking back at her with a surprised look.

“Adrien!” she exclaimed in shock. “Goodness!” she continued, “what are you doing here in this hall?”

“What am I doing here!” he replied, puzzled. “I came to look for you, as you were not in the sick room with Alya. Why should I _not_ be here?”

Marinette recollected herself, blushed deeply, and could say no more. He seemed to be looking in her countenance for that explanation which her lips did not afford. She moved on towards the hall.

“And may I not, in turn, ask how you came here?” said he, as he pulled back the velvet rope and offered his hand to help her down the last few steps, “This staircase is off-limits. I specifically asked Nathalie to warn you about it, to prevent any accident.”

“I have been,” said Marinette, looking down, “to see your mother's study.”

“My mother's study?! Is there anything extraordinary to be seen there?”

“No, nothing at all. I thought you did not mean to come back till tomorrow.”

“We did not expect to be able to return sooner, but Father dismissed us early. You look pale. I am afraid I alarmed you by appearing all of a sudden.”

“No, I am fine. You have had a very fine day for your ride.”

“Very; and what brought about this sudden interest in my Mother’s study?”

“Oh! I was curious— about her drawings, I mean—” dropping her voice “and why your father forbade any visitors.”

“My Mother's study is very commodious, is it not? Large and cheerful-looking, and the furniture so well disposed! It always strikes me as the most comfortable apartment in the house, and I have often considered taking it for my own private study. Alas, my Father wishes to keep it as she left it. Perhaps in a few years, he can be prevailed upon to let it go.”

Marinette was too ashamed to reply. Adrien resumed.

“Still, I wonder what could bring about such curiosity, to risk your own well-being just to look at some drawings. I have spoken highly of my mother, it is true, but it is not often that virtue can spark an interest such as this.” He stopped walking and turned to her. “Why did you do it?”

“Well, I— I wanted to see her work— and— I thought— her death was so sudden, and you were not at home,” slowly, and with hesitation she added, “and your father, I thought— perhaps had not been very fond of her.”

“And from these circumstances,” he replied, his quick eye fixed on hers, “you infer perhaps the probability of some negligence— or worse.” She raised her eyes towards him, before mortification made her look away shaking her head.

“My mother's illness,” he continued, “the seizure which ended in her death was sudden. The malady itself, a rare heart condition, one from which she had often suffered, was constitutional in nature. A physician attended her the whole time — Docteur Fouquet, who you have met, in whom she had always placed great confidence. Upon his opinion of her danger, two others were called the next day and remained in almost constant attendance for twenty-four hours. On the third day, she died. During the progress of her disorder, Félix and Father never left her side; and from their account as well as the doctors’ and servants’, she received every possible attention and care.”

“But your father,” said Marinette, “was he afflicted?”

“For a time, greatly so. You have erred in supposing him not attached to her. He loved her, I know that with certainty — people have different ways of displaying love and mourning. Father is stern, but he was much livelier when she was with us. His temper was always difficult, but Mother had a way to soften it. He sincerely valued her and was truly afflicted by her death.”

“I am very glad of it,” said Marinette, almost involuntarily, “it would have been very shocking!”

“If I understand you correctly, you had formed a surmise of such horror as I have hardly words to— dear Marinette, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained. What have you been judging from? We are not living in one of those outlandish novels you are so fond of. I know I teased you with those spooky tales before, but now you have let your imagination run wild. Dearest Marinette, what ideas have you been admitting?”

They had reached the end of the gallery, and with tears of shame she ran off to her own room.

* * *

Marinette’s visions of romance were over. Adrien’s address, short as it had been, had opened her eyes to the silliness of her fantasies, more thoroughly than reality itself had done. Most grievously was she humbled. Most bitterly did she cry. Her folly, which now seemed even criminal, was all exposed to him, and he must despise her forever. The liberty which her imagination had dared to take with the character of his father — how could he ever forgive it? The absurdity of her curiosity and her fears — how could they ever be forgotten? He had shown real affection for her. But now…

She made herself as miserable as possible for about half an hour, went down when the clock struck five, with a broken heart, and could scarcely give Nino an intelligible greeting. Adrien soon followed her into the room, and the only difference in his behaviour to her was that he paid her rather more attention than usual. Marinette was in desperate need of comfort, and he more than willingly provided it.

The evening wore away with no abatement of this soothing politeness, and her spirits were gradually raised to a modest tranquillity. She did not learn either to forget or defend the past, but she learned to hope that it would never transpire farther and that it might not cost her Adrien’s entire regard.

Upon reflection, she concluded that her mind had been craving to be frightened even before she entered the Abbey. She remembered with what feelings she had prepared for the trip. She realized that the illusions had been created even before their quitting Vichy, and all of it might be traced to the influence of that sort of reading in which she had indulged.

She couldn’t bring herself to burn a book. Instead, she took all of her own novels and hid them in the big chest in her room, and returned the ones she had borrowed to the Abbey’s library.

* * *

One night, a few days later, she confessed her ordeal to Alya, who lightheartedly dismissed its importance as minimal.

“That boy is in love with you, I assure you, and he would forgive you for anything. One day, you and Adrien will tell this story to your children and laugh about it.”

“I very much doubt that we will!” Marinette considered the thought of having a family with Adrien and her heart beat a little faster. “Admittedly, he has been even kinder to me after all this. He did not scold me again, nor has he teased me, as I feared.”

Alya hugged her close and Marinette felt a weight lifted off her shoulders.

“It will be alright, sweetie. Has he confessed to you?”

“Not in so many words. There were some… demonstrations of affection. Before all this.”

“Well? Why am I only now hearing this?” Alya asked, playfully, though Marinette could tell she was trying to distract her from the faux-pas. “Do tell!”

She related the farewell at the hospital, finishing the narrative with an apology: “This sounds horrible, as if we were frolicking while you were ill; I am sorry! We were so worried about you!” and she took her friend in her arms again.

“Don’t you dare apologize!” Alya broke the hug to make her friend look at her, “it was a nightmare for you as well, and you deserved to be comforted too!”

Marinette felt at peace for the first time in weeks and fell asleep in her friend’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues. 
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)  
Thank you to the wonderful [RoseGardenTwilight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGardenTwilight/pseuds/RoseGardenTwilight). Your insight and advice helped me write a much better story.


	13. Promises are broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two letters bring some unexpected news from Vichy. Domestic bliss sets in for a little while… but all good things must come to an end. General Agreste returns home — but his arrival is a bad omen for the young lovers…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added another chapter, as I will need an epilogue to tie loose ends. So, two more to go! Meanwhile, enjoy some drama!

The next day, Marinette received two letters: one from Kim, the other from Lila. Glad as she was to get any news, happiness was soon replaced with worry.

Kim’s letter was dated a few days earlier than Lila’s so she read it first.

> _Dear Marinette,_
> 
> _Though it pains my heart to write, I must tell you that everything is at an end between Mlle. Rossi and me. I left her and Vichy forever. _
> 
> _I shall not enter into particulars — they would only hurt more. Suffice to say she has treated me very ill, betraying our engagement, breaking my heart and tarnishing her very honour. _
> 
> _I hope you will acquit me of everything but the folly of too easily thinking my affection returned. _
> 
> _Thank goodness! I am undeceived in time! But it is a heavy blow! She has made me miserable forever! _
> 
> _Let me hear from you soon, dear Marinette; you are my oldest friend; your love I do depend upon. I wish your visit at Rouen may be over before Captain Graham de Vanily makes his engagement known, to save you further embarrassment. _
> 
> _Poor Théo is in town: I dread the sight of him; his honest heart will feel so much. _
> 
> _Her duplicity hurts me more than all; till the very last she declared herself as much attached to me as ever. I am ashamed to think how long I bore with her lies; but if ever man had reason to believe himself loved, I was that man._
> 
> _We parted at last by mutual consent — I wish we had never met! I hope no such other woman crosses your path or mine! _
> 
> _Dearest Marinette, beware how you give your heart. _
> 
> _Love, Kim_

“That conniving, two-faced vixen!” Marinette could not help exclaiming, as angry with Lila as she was heartbroken for Kim.

“What happened?” Alya asked, sitting next to her friend. She only responded by handing her the letter, then opening the one from Lila.

> _My dearest Marinette, _
> 
> _I have a thousand apologies to make for not writing sooner. I really am quite ashamed of my idleness; but in this horrid place one can find time for nothing. Pray write to me soon, and direct to the Barbot townhouse in Paris. _
> 
> _Since you and Alya went away, I have had no pleasure in Vichy — it is too dusty and dull: everybody one cares for is gone. I believe if I could see you I should not mind the rest, for you are dearer to me than anybody can conceive. _
> 
> _I am quite uneasy about your dear cousin, not having heard from him since he went away; and I am fearful of some misunderstanding. _
> 
> _Your kind influence will set all right: he is the only man I ever did or could love, and I trust you will convince him of it. _
> 
> _The Autumn fashions have come out; and the hats are the most frightful you can imagine. _
> 
> _I hope you spend your time pleasantly, but am afraid you never think of me. I feel the need to warn you about the family you are with, because it is very difficult to know whom to trust, and young men never know their minds two days together. _
> 
> _I rejoice to say that the young man whom, of all others, I particularly abhor, has left Vichy: Captain Graham de Vanily, who, as you may remember, was amazingly disposed to follow and tease me, before you went away. Afterwards he got worse, and became quite my shadow, professing his undying love and taking such liberties as I could hardly stop him. _
> 
> _He went away to his regiment two days ago, and I trust I shall never be plagued with him again. He is the greatest coxcomb I ever saw, and amazingly disagreeable. The last two days he was always by the side of Charlotte David: I pitied his taste, but took no notice of him. _
> 
> _Such a contrast between him and your cousin! Pray send me some news of the latter — I am quite unhappy about him; he seemed so uncomfortable when he went away, with a cold, or something that affected his spirits. _
> 
> _I would write to him myself, but have mislaid his address; and, as hinted above, I am afraid he took something in my conduct amiss. Pray explain everything to his satisfaction; or, if he still harbours any doubt, a line from himself to me, or a call when next in Paris, might set all to rights. _
> 
> _I have not been to the ballroom this age, nor to the play, except going in last night with the Dufresnes, for a frolic, at half price: they teased me into it; and I was determined they should not say I shut myself up because Félix was gone. We happened to sit by the Laurents, and they pretended to be quite surprised to see me out. Anne Laurent had tried to put on a turban like mine, as I wore it the week before at the concert, but made wretched work of it — it suited _me_ very prettily, I believe, at least Félix told me so at the time; but he is the last man whose word I would take. I wear nothing but red now: I know I look hideous in it, but no matter — it is dear Kim’s favourite colour. Lose no time, my dearest, sweetest Marinette, in writing to him and to me._
> 
> _Your ever-loving friend, _
> 
> _Lila Rossi_

Such a strain of shallow artifice infuriated Marinette. Its inconsistencies, contradictions, and falsehood struck her from the very first. She was ashamed of having ever befriended Lila. Her professions of attachment were now as disgusting as her excuses were empty, and her demands impudent.

“Write to Kim on her behalf! No, Kim will never hear Lila’s name mentioned by me again.” She blurted aloud, now getting the attention of the boys.

Allowing them to peruse both letters, they were appropriately appalled, but not surprised.

“I should have expected this kind of behaviour from Félix. He has been known to take his flirts _much too far_ in the past.” Adrien lamented.

“There was more than one occasion when General Agreste had to bribe a girl’s family,” Nino whispered in an uncharacteristic serious tone. “One particular young lady from the neighbourhood went on a trip to England with her family and came back with a baby _sister_.” The way he intoned the last word and tilted his head left no room for doubt.

The girls were suitably horrified. Marinette couldn’t utter what was passing through her mind, but she understood his meaning perfectly. She imagined a little blonde, green-eyed baby in the arms of a disgraced young girl.

When she dared look at Adrien, his gaze was so earnest and concerned, observing her with such an apologetic look, that she could hardly believe he was related to that abominable scoundrel.

* * *

Another week passed by, Alya fully recovered and Marinette’s foolish investigations mostly forgotten.

Their days were spent peacefully, now that all their worries were gone. Adrien and Marinette had become inseparable now, but she still blushed every time he kissed her. Every evening he played the piano for her, while Nino read poetry to Alya.

One morning, having received a note from his father, Adrien announced that he and Nino had to ride to the port at Rouen, to supervise the loading of a shipment of uniforms headed to Morocco.

“It should take all day. We may even need to sleep over in town,” Adrien lamented, “but I am glad my father trusts me with such an important task for a change!”

“Yes, it seems he has finally realized that you are a grown man!” Nino teased, never wasting an opportunity to mock the General.

Immediately after breakfast, they ordered the servants to equip their horses and kissed the girls goodbye.

Marinette’s expectation for a dull day in the house was countered only an hour later, with the surprising arrival of General Agreste.

Marinette, and only her, was summoned by Nathalie to see the General in the library immediately, and by her tone, the news could not be good. She looked at Alya in confusion, but complied, following the housekeeper.

As she entered the enormous room, the General was seated at a desk positioned on a dais, probably a legacy from the Abbey’s ancient days. As he stood up and moved to the front of the desk, observing her closely, hands behind his back in military attention, Marinette felt tiny as a mouse. After a few moments of awkward silence, she felt the need to break it.

“Good morning, General Agreste, I trust your ride—” only to be rudely interrupted.

“I have no patience for small talk, Mlle. Dupain. It has come to my knowledge that you have completely misrepresented yourself, and I demand an explanation.”

Marinette felt her heart sink and her face blanch.

“I beg your pardon, Sir, I do not understand you. How have I misrepresented myself?”

“I am not to be trifled with, Mlle. Dupain! Do you deny that you announced yourself to be an heiress?”

“_I_ have never claimed such a title!” Marinette was perplexed, but her inner strength gave her the courage to defend herself. “I have no expectations of inheritance except what my parents earn from their work. We have discussed the modesty of my family, and if I remember correctly, you even lauded their hard work, Sir!”

“So you are trying to tell me you never proclaimed to be the heiress to M. Ramier’s fortune?”

“Absolutely not! I expect nothing from them. They are dear friends, and that is all. Furthermore, although they have no children, they do have other family members as heirs. I cannot fathom how this rumour started…” The realization slowly dawned on her. “Pray tell me, Sir, who gave you this information?”

“I do not have to justify myself to you,” the General spat, “suffice to say my informant declared himself deceived by your claims to riches and ensnared by your charms. And now you are trying to entrap my son!? I will not allow that!”

It immediately dawned on her that the author of the rumours must be Théo Barbot. It made sense, with his tendency for bragging — at some point, that rascal convinced himself that she liked him, and boasting about snatching up an heiress was certainly in character for him. With her refusal and Lila’s spite in the mixture, who knew what other rumours they could be spreading around Paris at this moment?

Despite feeling sick to her stomach, she managed to reply to the General.

“I see. And you trust this informant over me. Of course, the word of a mere woman is not as valuable as the word of a man.”

“Mlle. Dupain,” he replied, in an angry tone, “in addition to this, a report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that _you_ would, in all likelihood, be soon engaged to my own son. Though I _know_ it must be a scandalous falsehood, I instantly resolved on setting off for home, that I might prevent such a folly.”

“If you believed it impossible to be true,” she argued, now certain that the General’s arrival and Adrien’s absence had been perfectly timed, “I wonder why you took the trouble of coming so fast.”

“At once to insist upon having such a report contradicted.”

“Your inviting me here, to visit with your family,” said she, coolly, “might have been seen as a confirmation of it. In fact, I seem to remember your encouragement of a friendship between your son and me.”

The General looked away, words failing him for a few moments, before resuming his arrogant ranting.

“This is not to be borne. Mlle. Dupain, I insist you answer me. Has my son made you an offer of marriage?”

“That notion did not seem as abhorrent to you only a few weeks ago.”

He walked back and forth on the dais, seemingly confused by the girl’s candour. “Let me be rightly understood. This match can not take place. Tell me once and for all, are you engaged to him?”

While Marinette hated to be cornered and was loath to indulge such rude prying, she could not bring herself to lie, either.

“I am not.”

General Agreste seemed pleased.

“And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?”

“I will make no promise of the kind.”

“You foolish, headstrong girl! I expected you to be more reasonable. I see no other option but to ask you to leave my home immediately.”

“Very well, Sir, I would not bare to stay where I am not wanted. Please arrange for transport to Paris for me and Mlle. Césaire.”

“Mlle. Césaire needs not go; she has not shown herself as foolish as you, she can stay as long as she wants.”

“I will let her know, but I do believe she will decline to stay without me.”

“I will have the driver take you to the next coach to Paris. Please make all your arrangements.”

Appalled by the total lack of courtesy on the General’s part — not even offering his own coach, making two unaccompanied young girls travel alone! — Marinette nevertheless stood tall and lifted her chin, addressing the General for the last time.

“Well, Sir, in that case, I bid you farewell and thank you for the hospitality.”

“Goodbye,” he replied, his back turned to her in a dismissive tone.

* * *

Marinette joined Alya in their room and recounted the conversation, finally allowing herself to break down and cry in private. She took some comfort from her friend’s affection and felt grateful for having her there. They agreed to leave as soon as possible and packed their possessions in a hurry.

Alya left a note for Nino with one of the chambermaids, along with a small bribe for her discretion, as they did not trust Nathalie in the least. Marinette didn’t even have that consolation — since Adrien had never officially proposed, it would be highly inappropriate to write to him.

The driver seemed even more taciturn than usual as he loaded their trunks into the carriage, but was kind enough to wait for the coach with them, and Marinette noticed he gave the other driver a generous tip along with the payment for the trip.

* * *

They arrived home late that night, safe and sound; and although their respective families were happy to see them, the circumstances of the departure appalled everyone.

Marinette told as little as possible to her parents, embarrassed and tired as she was. M. Dupain cursed the name of General Agreste and declared him _persona non grata_ in his business for eternity, along with all his kin.

She watched listlessly as her mother attempted to calm his ire, saying they should not blame the son for the sins of the father while directing a meaningful look back at her. She had written her mother often during her absence, and even though she hadn’t disclosed the exact nature of her relationship with Adrien, Sabine’s expression told her she _knew_.

Fortunately, Thomas Dupain’s heart was as big as he was tall, and after some hours of anger, he commuted the sentence and declared the ban was limited to General Agreste.

Even though Marinette’s heart was broken, her pain was eased simply by being at home — she had missed her parents dearly, and their love and comfort helped her immensely. Their easy and affectionate banter reminded her how lucky she was to have such a loving family, and her heart clenched for Adrien, who had nothing but coldness waiting for him at home.

Tossing and turning in her bed that night, she wondered what Adrien’s reaction would be. Would he be angry with his father? Would he be as disappointed in her as his father was? Impossible, her heart told her, even as it hurt at that prospect: his affection was genuine, and at the very least, his friendship was sincere. She pondered whether it would be appropriate to write him a letter or to reach out through Alya and Nino. It could not end this way, she had to see him again.

It was with her mind in a whirlwind that she finally cried herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues. 
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)  
Thank you to the wonderful [RoseGardenTwilight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGardenTwilight/pseuds/RoseGardenTwilight), whose insight and advice helped me write a much better story.  
I think about you every day. In the short time we shared, you have been a powerful influence on my writing.


	14. Promises are renewed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on for our girls, back in Paris. As some things seem to fall into place, other obstacles seem to appear out of nowhere… How will these impossible hurdles be cleared? Can love truly conquer all?

Two days had passed since Marinette’s surprising return. After one day of repose and unpacking, Sabine encouraged her to visit the Ramiers.

“It will be good for you to get out of the house. Mme. Ramier has become very attached to you and Alya in Vichy. She will be happy to see you again.”

All Marinette wanted to do was to lie down and sleep forever — at least in her dreams, Adrien still loved her. For her mother’s sake, though, she complied.

“Alright, I will pay them a quick visit, then maybe go to the park for some sun. I am tired of being shut in.”

The visit was a short one, as she had no patience for Mme. Ramier’s gossip, or her accounts of all the elegant events she had attended (and the outfits she wore to each one of them).

Walking back home, Marinette _did_ feel a little better, as her mother had predicted. She had missed the bustle of the city and the friendly faces she was so familiar with. She took a moment to sit on a bench at the Place des Vosges, admiring the rich colours of the linden trees. The early Autumn wind blew clouds of orange leaves around her, just like the fairy tales she had read as a child. As she looked down the avenue, she even imagined an elegant prince riding a white horse coming her way.

She shook her head, thinking her imagination was running wild again. When she reopened her eyes, she did not see a horse, but a familiar face instead.

“Adrien?” she breathed, still incredulous.

“I am so glad you are safe!” He removed his hat and riding gloves and sat next to her. “I came as soon as I knew. I went to the bakery, your mother told me you might be in this park. I dare say I startled her a little, but I… I had to see you.”

“I can’t believe you're here.” She looked down at her hands as she nervously wrung them. “Did your father tell you?… About me? Why he sent me back?”

Adrien dropped his head and tentatively took her hands in his.

“He told me everything. He was under some illusion that you were an heiress with many suitors. I guess that Barbot fellow filled his head with those notions.”

“I figured as much. I am sorry about that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for! You never presumed to be anything you are not. It is I who have to atone for my father’s horrible behaviour.” He gently lifted her chin to make her look at him. “I had words with my father. He told me to forget you, but that would be impossible, and I told him so.”

Marinette forced herself to hold his gaze. “Wh—what did you tell him?”

“He told me he was glad he found out before we grew more attached. I told him we are in love. That I would not be as dishonourable as he was, and would come to you immediately. He said he would not forgive me if I left, but I did anyway.”

“Really? You don’t hate me for making your father so enraged?”

“How could I ever hate you? It is all my father’s fault. He has proven that he’s almost as horrid as you had thought him. He curtailed my independence, my freedom, my creativity. I will no longer bear the way he treats me, and it was you who gave me the courage to stand up for myself.”

“I can’t believe you disobeyed your father for me.”

“I did it for you, and would do it again. Dearest Marinette, in these few months I’ve known you, you have shown me more happiness than I had in years. You are kind, beautiful, smart, talented and so brave! I love you… most ardently.”

She looked away from him, her heart fleeting between surprise, happiness, love and worry; words failing her for some moments.

“And if you don’t say something soon I may just die…” Adrien begged, his voice a blend of joy and worry.

“I believe I have loved you since our first dance in Vichy. How could I not like such an odd boy who knows his muslins?” She sighed and lifted her eyes to meet his. “You have seen me at my worst and responded with nothing but love and kindness. I can not believe you love me back after all that has happened.”

“Well, then.” Adrien stood up, cleared his throat, and bowed. “Mademoiselle Dupain,” then dropped to one knee, “will you do me the honour of marrying me and make me the happiest man alive?”

Marinette tried not to laugh as she answered, “the honour would be mine, Monsieur Agreste. I accept.”

Standing up once more, he offered his hand to help her up.

“In that case, I believe I need to pay a visit to your parents.” He offered his arm and walked her back home, leading his horse by the reins.

* * *

In the meantime, Nino, who had accompanied Adrien in his ride, arrived at Mme. Césaire’s restaurant. Alya was helping her mother and sisters prepare the tables for lunch. She ran to him as soon as she saw him, ignoring any attempt at propriety and embracing him as hard as she could.

“We came as soon as we found out.” Nino kissed her forehead and took a step back, verifying she was in one piece. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, of course I am,” she giggled and hugged him once more. “It was just a few hours’ ride. Marinette and I are quite capable, you know!”

Mme. Césaire and Alya’s sisters unsubtly stared from behind the restaurant counter. When Nino noticed their presence, he removed his fez and scratched his head in embarrassment.

“Oh, I forgot. You haven’t met yet! Mother, girls, this is Nino, my—”

“Nino! Nino!” Alya’s younger sisters almost toppled him to the ground with their hugs, while Nora, the eldest, looked down at him stiffly from her imposing height.

“Well, teeny man,” she started in a menacing tone, only to break down in a chuckle, “are you joining us for lunch?”

The Césaires welcomed Nino as if he had always been part of the family, and he had a chance to explain what had happened after the girls had left the Abbey.

“General Agreste sent us on that errand at the port so that he could confront poor Marinette uninterrupted. We were gone until the next evening. He and Adrien had an awful quarrel, and we left as soon as we could.”

After lunch, when they were alone, Alya asked: “did the chambermaid give you my note?”

“Yes she did, and I am glad you decided to leave with your friend. I would not expect any less from you, my love. The General’s behaviour is unforgivable.” He looked away briefly, making a fist with his hand. “That conniving old bastard does _not_ know who he’s messing with.”

* * *

As soon as the young couple entered the Dupain bakery, Marinette asked to speak to her parents upstairs. Tom hesitated and directed a scowl at Adrien, but followed his wife and daughter, leaving the store at the hands of his employees.

Closing the door behind them, Marinette took a deep breath and formally introduced Adrien, who was kindly welcomed by Sabine and coldly greeted by Tom.

“I must start by apologizing for my father’s treatment of Marinette. There was an awful misunderstanding, but that is no excuse for his behaviour, and I am here to make amends.”

Marinette waited anxiously for her parent’s response. Finally, her father started to speak, his commanding voice silencing the room.

“We were very upset about the way our daughter was thrown out like a thief, not even escorted home, as common courtesy would demand. It could have been dangerous for two young girls to travel alone.”

Adrien seemed to shrink under M. Dupain’s presence, but kept his head held high.

“You are absolutely right, Sir, and that is the reason I set off as soon as I knew about it. I was concerned about Marinette’s well-being.”

Sabine replied before Tom could continue with his scolding. “We appreciate your concern, young man, but as you can see, there was no harm done. Apologies accepted. Now, would you like some tea? You must be tired from your ride. Marinette, come help me.”

Marinette followed her mother into the kitchen, not knowing what to expect.

“I have to admit, you have a very handsome suitor there,” Sabine smiled as she filled the teapot and Marinette arranged cups and saucers on a tray.

“Maman… what? How did you?… Suitor? Nooo—” she coyly tried to refute, but her blush and the clinking china spoke volumes.

“Now dear, none of that denying nonsense, I think I know my daughter well enough to tell when she is in love. Granted, I have just met the boy, but anyone can see that he is as much in love with you as you are with him. Has he proposed yet?”

Marinette was so taken by surprise she overfilled the sugar bowl, spilling some on the counter. She gave an unintelligible reply and attempted to clean up.

“I will take the tray, dear. This is our good tea set, after all,” Sabine winked. “Open the door for me, will you please?”

Still unable to form a coherent sentence, she mumbled an apology and obeyed.

As they entered the room, they were greeted by the sight of Tom vigorously slapping Adrien’s shoulder. Marinette’s initial horror was soon dispelled when she noticed her father’s subtle smile and Adrien’s relieved — though bashful— look.

“Ah! Sabine! It seems that our daughter was holding back some important details!” he boomed, with another slap. “She never told us about her fiancé!”

“Fiancé? Now, now, that sounds lovely, let me just serve the tea before it gets cold.” Sabine gestured for him to sit next to Marinette and started to serve the tea.

“Our unexpected visitor was just asking me for permission to marry Marinette,” Tom started, as he took a cup from his wife. “Do you think we should give them our blessing?”

“I don’t know, dear.” Though she was all smiles and courtesy, Sabine was keenly watching Adrien. “What do you have to say for yourself, young man?”

“Well, Madame, as I was telling M. Dupain, I intend to marry your daughter, if you both allow me. I have asked Marinette already, and she accepted.”

“That is a sudden development, given that we just met you — Sugar? — How did you young people arrive at such an important decision?”

“It is true we have only met a couple of months ago, but in this short time I got to know Marinette well, and I am now convinced she is the one for me. Your daughter can speak for her own feelings, but I do believe it is mutual.”

Marinette could only nod as Tom continued with the interrogation, now with a seemingly sterner attitude to match his wife’s.

“And what opinion does your father have on this? Our daughter mentioned his disappointment about her lack of fortune when he so rudely expelled her from your home.”

Adrien looked down as he stirred his tea.

“My father’s opinion is irrelevant. I will be twenty-one, thus independent, next September. Besides, I have yet to complete my Humanities degree at the Sorbonne. I was thinking we could get married after that, if you agree.”

“We would prefer to have your father’s agreement on the union.” Sabine looked worried. “It seems disrespectful to go against his wishes. Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Madame, my father has some old-fashioned views on class and marriage. He would have been happy to ignore Marinette’s status if she were rich. When he found out she was not, he forbade the union.” He sighed and looked at Marinette. “I was already determined, however, and his attitude only cemented my decision.”

“I wonder where he could have gotten that notion that you are an heiress!” Sabine looked to her daughter for answers. “You never were the vain, pretentious kind.”

Marinette filled her parents in on the whole Théo Barbot debacle.

“Still, this does not negate the fact that you will be disobeying your father.” Tom lightly squeezed Adrien’s shoulder. “Being estranged from your father is not easy — I know from experience. Do you think there can be a chance for reconciliation?”

“When he told me he had confronted Marinette, we… had words,” Adrien blinked a few times, then addressed Marinette, taking her hand. “I was so angry he treated you the way he did… I said I would come to you whether he liked it or not. He said… he told me not to bother returning if I left.”

“And still, you came…” she said quietly, caressing his hand in a calming gesture.

“Nothing would prevent me from coming to see you.”

Sabine cleared her throat then resumed her questioning.

“In short, you are here against your father’s wishes, disowned, offering nothing but your hand and a long engagement. Did I understand you correctly?”

Adrien’s cheeks coloured even more as he admitted, “it does not sound promising when you put it that way, Madame. Let me add that although my father has disowned me, I am entitled to my mother’s inheritance, as their marriage settlement determined so. It includes the family estate and her jewellery, as well as a part of her dowry. Enough to be able to live in independence and comfort.”

“Your pecuniary situation bothers me the least, young man,” Tom assured, “if you were left penniless, the bakery downstairs can always use an extra hand. Marinette is our only daughter and our business affords a good living. We would make do…”

Marinette and Adrien waited apprehensively for the blow that would surely follow.

“… however, while your father so expressly forbids the connection, I can not encourage it. You can visit and court, but a formal engagement will require at least some decent appearance of consent on his part.”

Dejection hit the young couple like a bucket of cold water. Neither seemed capable of speech, so they nodded in synchrony. Tom continued.

“This is not just for appearances’ sake. My foremost concern is to protect Marinette — and yourself. Family quarrels can be a burden on anyone, let alone someone as sweet-tempered as you both are.”

Marinette hadn’t even noticed the tears in her eyes. It was a testament to her parents’ good nature to give them such a warm approval. The obstacle of Gabriel’s consent seemed almost impossible to surmount, but Marinette felt it was a reasonable one. Starting a marriage with such negative interference could be a recipe for disaster.

* * *

As her parents went back to work in the bakery and she was left alone with Adrien, she explained the reason for this condition. During her early years, her parents never talked about her grandfather, Roland. She later found out that he had forbidden Tom’s engagement to Sabine, because she was Chinese, from an unknown family, and not Catholic. Roland alienated his son and his own wife, Gina, for years. The rift did cause some strain over the first years of her parents’ union, as Tom was set to carry on with his father’s bakery. He and Sabine had to find another source of income, with all the hardships that entailed.

It was only when Marinette was around thirteen years old that she asked to meet her grandfather and conquered his heart. Apologies and forgiveness followed, Tom was reinstated as heir to the Dupain bakery and they had a few years of harmony before Roland passed away.

Still holding her hand, Adrien nodded and kissed her forehead.

“I understand why your parents are so insistent,” he whispered in an attempt to soothe her, “but I promise, we _will_ be together — with or without my father’s blessing.

“But… I could not bear to separate you from your father… or to see you lose all your expectations… What about your plans for the school? Will you resent me for it in the future? What if…” Marinette was stopped from spiralling by Adrien’s hands lightly caressing her cheeks.

“We will cross that bridge when we get there. I was sincere with your father. I want to finish my studies, and that will not happen until the Spring term. In the meantime, we can still see each other. That is more than my father would have allowed.”

Marinette silently assented and gave him a small smile, which he quickly seized with a kiss. As she rested her head on his shoulder and felt his arms embracing her, a feeling of peace and security took over, and she was sure all would be right in the end, as long as they were together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you _spot_ any issues. 
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)  
Thank you to the wonderful [RoseGardenTwilight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGardenTwilight/pseuds/RoseGardenTwilight), whose insight and advice helped me write a much better story.  



	15. All's Well That Ends Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out the fates of our beloved characters... and of the unloved ones as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Here's the last chapter! I hope everything is nice and tied with a neat little bow (and I hope I don't have any loose ends — let me know if I have)!

The title of the present chapter is a tell-tale sign that we are heading to the happy conclusion of our tale. There can be only one doubt: what probable circumstance could work upon a temper like Gabriel Agreste’s?

As it turned out, in the months that followed Adrien’s proposal, there were some events that may have had some influence in changing the irascible General’s mind.

Nino and Alya’s engagement was finally made official and a date set for a May wedding. In preparation for the event, the Lahiffe family was visiting Paris at Christmas time, and as usual General Agreste offered his apartment for their stay. There were a few after-dinner conversations regarding the business relationship between Agreste Industries and the Moroccan government. Monsieur Lahiffe (_père_) announced he would retire from his diplomatic career, with his son assuming his position in the Paris embassy — which meant that Nino would head all negotiations for future textile purchases.

Shortly after Christmas, M. Dupain paid a visit to the Agreste residence as well. Tom never told anyone the precise content of the conversation, but was noticeably satisfied when he returned home.

Adrien was surprised to get a letter from his father some days later. Although he did not apologize for his behaviour, he did justify his actions with the heat of the moment, stressing that he never meant to insult Mlle. Dupain or her esteemed parents. He claimed to be unaware of the pain caused to the lady, as he thought she was indifferent to Adrien’s affections. Gabriel entreated Adrien to return home to the Paris apartment, where his room and belongings were waiting for him. He finished the letter with an invitation for dinner, extended to the Dupain family members.

This was as good as a consent, and the day Adrien was able to tell Marinette the news was the happiest since they had met. Now they were allowed to proceed with the engagement in public, and set a date for the end of October, after Adrien’s birthday.

During their long engagement, Adrien studied eagerly in order to complete all his exams at the end of the Spring semester as planned. Marinette, on the other hand, devoured Adrien’s old University textbooks and helped him to prepare for his exams. She even went back to Madame Bustier’s school to work as a teacher’s apprentice. When they weren’t studying, they talked for hours about their future school. After defeating Gabriel’s opposition to the wedding, convincing him to approve their plan seemed almost easily attainable.

* * *

This is the part of our story where we must leave our main characters for a while. Other subjects were mentioned, and their fates must also be known.

In early January of that year, the Journal de Paris announced that Théo Barbot had been imprisoned. Along with some friends, he had elaborated a complex fraud, which consisted of selling plots of land in a country in the Americas. The problem was said country was imaginary, and the swindlers eventually got caught.

Captain Graham de Vanily was dishonourably discharged from the army after the discovery of an affair with the wife of his senior officer. The scandal damaged his reputation in such a way he was forced to sell his estate and leave France to start a new life in the United States.

Shortly after the public announcement of Marinette’s engagement, she received a letter from Lila Rossi. She offered her congratulations on the betrothal and vows of eternal friendship, before virtually inviting herself to the wedding and to accompany them at the Abbey for a visit.

As it happened that Marinette had _much_ rather not, she endeavoured in her answer to put an end to every entreaty and expectation of the kind, as well as any future correspondence.

Some months later Mme. Ramier told her that Signora and Signorina Rossi had returned to their home country. The Barbot incident had affected them as well, and so they sought refuge with their relatives in Calabria. Marinette felt sorry for the relatives.

Kim’s disappointment after the break-up with Lila was temporary. Shortly after returning to the University at Dijon, he wrote to Marinette, gushing about a girl he had met. Her name was Ondine, she was beautiful and cheerful, and they got along swimmingly. They were engaged within a month.

* * *

Nino and Alya were married in May and travelled to Morocco on their honeymoon, so that she could get to know his extended family and his homeland. Their lively and outgoing personalities made them a success in Moroccan high society. They were as happy as a couple could be, but happier still when they returned to Paris to witness their best friends getting married.

* * *

Estranged from his son by his own stubbornness and pride, Gabriel Agreste spent his days at the Abbey locked away in his library, attending to his business dealings, the pain of being isolated worse than ever. One evening, just for the sake of speaking to someone, he entreated his housekeeper, Nathalie, to dine with him. Their sporadic dinners gradually became a daily occurrence — soon they were spending whole evenings together, forging a serene companionship that developed even further over time. She was an educated woman, and although she had been in the family’s service for several years, still young and attractive. Her dedication to the family and to the estate was such as to earn deep respect and gratitude from her employer.

After the row between father and son was resolved, Gabriel started to spend more time in the Agreste’s Parisian residence. Marinette was now a constant presence, and she slowly chipped away at the General’s heart, with her sweet temper and smart conversations, rekindling the fondness he had initially shown her. And yet, despite the newfound familial harmony, he was uncharacteristically eager to return home, using his business as an excuse.

That summer, he told his son that he was ready to end the long period of mourning for his wife. Gabriel was in a state of serene contentment as he announced his engagement, which would be officiated in a discreet civil ceremony following Adrien’s honeymoon. His plan was to retire from his business to travel with Nathalie, after which they would settle in the Paris apartment permanently.

* * *

Marinette and Adrien’s wedding was very much like other weddings, with no exuberant finery or parade and only the closest friends and family present.

With so much true merit and true love, and no want of fortune and friends, the happiness of the married couple was perfect. And to begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of twenty-one and eighteen is to do pretty well.

Émilie Agreste’s plans for the school were completed some years later, Adrien assuming the role of headmaster and Marinette taking over the children’s arts and crafts lessons. Following his mother’s wishes, the school was free and open to everyone, regardless of origin or fortune. The pupils thrived and the kind, generous masters became adored by the whole community.

And to think — it all started with an impressionable girl and a funny boy and their mutual love for scary books! It remains to be determined by the reader whether extensive reading of fantastic, whimsical, miraculous tales is a good exercise or a bad habit…

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a ride this has been! My thanks to everyone who read and commented, every single Kudo and emoji really helped me to keep up with the motivation needed to complete this. If I have brought a smile to your face at any point reading this, my job is done!  
I have to thank [RoseGardenTwilight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGardenTwilight/pseuds/RoseGardenTwilight) once again for her help. Wherever you are, you are missed.  
Thank you also to my Discord group, for your tireless support. You are the best!

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.  
English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies please let me know.  
Also, I researched a lot to try and keep it historically accurate. Let me know if you spot any issues. 
> 
> Cover design, adaptation and recolouring by me, based upon the engraving ["On the terrace of the Tuileries, 1798"](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:On_the_terrace_of_the_Tuileries,_1798.jpg) by François Courboin (Public Domain).  
[My Tumblr.](https://maggies-scribblings.tumblr.com)


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